When in Middle Earth facelifted & Revised edition
by Dev1lOnUrShou1der
Summary: Part One. When in Middle Earth...? Do as the Middle Earthlings do. Sakura finds herself stranded in Middle Earth. Her only chance of getting home? A wizard, a Ranger, & four Hobbits that are intent on dragging her into a quest she has no part in.
1. Prologue

**When In Middle Earth: The edited, revised and face-lifted edition****:**

**When in Middle Earth, do as the Middle-Earthlings do. ****Sakura finds herself in the midst of Middle Earth, immersed in a war she has no part in, saving a world and people she doesn't know, and why? Because Naruto would be disappointed in her if she ever got back and told him she hadn't...**

_**Prologue:**_

_**In which Sakura realises that Dorothy's got nothing on her**_

**Disclaimer: **

**The Lord of The Rings, it's associated characters and components are copyright and property of its author J. R. R. Tolkien, the actors that played them, and the director of the trilogy of films of the same name, Peter Jackson. The character Sakura and any components associated with the manga and anime 'Naruto' are property and copyright of Masashi Kishimoto**

**The story begins:**

Sakura's eyes stung and she scrunched up her face in a pathetic attempt at fighting away that too-bright light, currently playing havoc on her abused corneas. Eyes still screwed tightly shut, she grunted quietly and steadily began assessing her position, such as she could determine without the use of sight. She could feel springy, mossy ground beneath her, and the whisper of trees brushed across the edges of her hearing. She was aware of the faint sound of splashing water, and birdsong.

'So', she mused, 'I am in or near a forest, near a river, and it is a nice day.' This last revelation was itself rather puzzling, as the last thing she remembered was a torrential downpour. She had thought at the time that it matched her mood perfectly, as she and Kakashi stood preparing to face Sasuke in a fight that would surely end all fights. Or so she'd hoped. She ignored the short sharp pain that hit her heart with that thought, and returned to her evaluation.

Her ribs ached, but the level of pain indicated bruising rather than a break, for which she was relieved. Broken ribs were a bitch to heal. She directed her medical assessment to the rest of her body. Arms? Very sore – probably scraped and bruised. Shins – hurt like hell, probably more bruising. Head, feeling a bit funny – probably a concussion and there was definitely a nasty cut above her eye, because the blood dribbling down her forehead was really starting to irritate her. Oddly, she realised that her injuries were, though minimal, only on the front half of her body – her back was perfectly fine. Had she fallen face-first? Taken an attack face-on? She couldn't remember. Dammit she had probably wound up unconscious again. Belatedly, she also realised that she was laid on her side, in the recovery position – or close to it – which meant that somebody had been taking care of her. She felt momentarily relieved, if Kakashi was able to care for her he must be alive, and she must be with him. Certainly Sasuke would never do such a thing.

This happy thought was soon torn away however, when she heard the footfalls of her caretaker slowly approaching from the same direction as the sound of the water. Had it been her sensei, or even any other shinobi, she would not have heard footfalls at all. This meant that while this person appeared to be looking after her, she was in the presence of a stranger, and a civilian to boot. She didn't like that thought. But the light was still hurting her eyes and for the life of her she couldn't bring herself to open them. So, Sakura froze, and waited, listening intently as the stranger drew near.

The footsteps were light, and she realised that had she not been a shinobi herself she would most likely have not heard the person coming at all. So, a civilian practiced in stealth? Or were they simply small and light of foot? She was the supposed brainiac of her class – she didn't like it when she didn't know things. Not at all. Her musings were cut short when a damp cloth made contact with her head, and the blood that had irritated her was gently wiped away. She flinched. It was partly at the coldness of the wet cloth; in part because she hadn't expected it; entirely unintentional. She instantly berated herself.

"Are you awake now, little one?"

It was a man's voice that had spoken to her, definitely a stranger, but his tone was gentle – like one soothing a frightened Ox – and she felt in her heart that this man meant her no harm, unknown as he was. She was thankful that he spoke one of the languages she recognised, though his dialect and accent was vastly different to that spoken in her homeland. Sakura realised that wherever she was, she was far from home.

And with that unpleasant thought, she struggled to open her eyes.

Seeing what she was attempting to do, the man gently cupped her face with his hands, so as to shade her eyes – for which she was grateful. Slowly she parted her eyelids, wincing slightly at the sunlight, until she was able to squint blearily at her caretaker.

He was a middle-aged man, rather rough-looking and bedraggled, with dark hair that hung to his shoulders and a short – though unkempt - beard. His clothes looked nothing like the civilians she was used to. There were no bright colours or dyes – he was dressed in greens and browns – she wasn't sure whether everyone here dressed this way or if its purpose was wholly based in camouflage. A thick cloak hung about his shoulders, and she didn't miss the hilt of a sword that hid under the cloth by his hip, or the bow and quiver across his back. Those weren't common in Konoha either.

Aragorn was surprised when the girl opened her eyes fully - though she had just awoken, there was no dullness in her eyes. Rather, she appeared to be assessing him. There was intelligence in her gaze, and he guessed that she was already forming conclusions as to her current state and whereabouts. But it was the colour that most shocked him. Never had he seen such a vibrant green, save in the summer trees of fair Rivendell…such a strange girl this was. Her hair had given him pause, when he saw her first – such a colour! A colour he'd only seen in flowers, and yet brighter than any flower he'd laid eyes on.

"Where am I?" Inwardly, Sakura winced at how hoarse her voice was. Her lips were dry and the bottom one cracked as she spoke, leaving the bitter taste of blood in her mouth. The stranger however, immediately brought a water skin to her lips. She struggled to drink from the strange pouch, and spilled a great deal, but her stranger was patient and helped her, 'til he had determined that she'd taken enough. He used the damp cloth to wipe the blood from her mouth. He then gently lifted her into a sitting position; propped against what she guessed was his travelling pack (she could now see her own pack across the clearing, against a tree, and very much out of reach. She added 'clever' to her mental description of her stranger).

"Where am I?" Sakura repeated, her voice stronger this time, and her companion looked at her oddly for a moment before answering. Her dialect and accent was not like any he had heard before, though she at least seemed to know the language. He sat back from her, with his hands still on her shoulders, as if he expected her to topple forward as soon as he let go. This, Sakura conceded to herself, might very well be true. She'd never felt so weak in her life.

"You are in the forests near Bree," said the stranger at last, his eyes flickering across her face. She realised with a jolt that he was looking for signs of recognition. He continued: "I am the Ranger here." At her look of utter confusion, he felt the need to expand. "We are in the realm of Eriador."

Sakura looked at him blankly.

"In the north-western realms of Middle Earth?"

Sakura's face was blanker than a white canvas.

"Where the hell is Middle Earth?"

It dawned on them both that she was a lot farther from home than she had originally thought.

**To be continued…**

**For your benefit, changes (if they're not obvious) made to this chapter include:**

**I expanded on some of the descriptions and edited some of the longer sentences to make them less run-on-ish.**

**I corrected some bad grammar.**

**I dug out my ancient copy of the Lord of the Rings and found the map in it, and corrected the geography.**

**~Devi1OnUrShou1der~**


	2. Chapter One

**When In Middle Earth: The edited, revised and face-lifted edition****:**

**When in Middle Earth, do as the Middle-Earthlings do. ****Sakura finds herself in the midst of Middle Earth, immersed in a war she has no part in, saving a world and people she doesn't know, and why? Because Naruto would be disappointed in her if she ever got back and told him she hadn't...**

_**Chapter One:**_

_**In which Sakura wishes she'd taken 'friend-making' lessons from Naruto when she had the chance, **_

_**and awkwardness not only abounds, but jumps, hurtles, and leaps up and down waving a foam finger and a flag.**_

**Disclaimer: **

**The Lord of The Rings, it's associated characters and components are copyright and property of its author J. R. R. Tolkien, the actors that played them, and the director of the trilogy of films of the same name, Peter Jackson. The character Sakura and any components associated with the manga and anime 'Naruto' are property and copyright of Masashi Kishimoto**

**The story continues:**

"These are strange weapons," said the stranger from across the clearing, where he was making himself quite comfortable against her pack. In his hand was her kunai holster.

"_My _weapons are strange?" Sakura repeated, looking at his bow and sword doubtfully. He frowned at the implication.

"Mine are strange to you? That is interesting indeed." He regarded her curiously.

"What is your name little one?"

Sakura scowled in a way that would have had Naruto running, but the man was unaffected. She crossed her arms tightly.

"Where I come from, it is considered rude to ask somebody else's name without giving your own first," she bit out.

"Indeed?" His voice was utterly devoid of any inflection, emotion, or any indication of amusement. And yet, Sakura still had the distinct impression he was laughing at her. Her scowl deepened.

"Indeed," she snapped shortly.

"From what I understand, where you come from must be very far away," he observed mildly. Sakura suppressed a frustrated growl. She knew that. Since she'd woken up her mind had been whirring, and she was very quickly coming to the conclusion that she was well and truly in trouble.

For a long moment they regarded each other in a mildly juvenile game of 'Don't blink first.'

"I am known as Strider," he said finally, standing and offering her a small (and only slightly mocking) bow. She narrowed her eyes.

Aragorn watched warily as the odd girl struggled to her feet. He resisted the urge to help her, sensing that this time she would not appreciate it. But she was stronger than she seemed, apparently, because though she rose stiffly, she planted her legs firmly and stared him straight in the eye.

"You may call me Sakura," she said, imitating his bow. She tried not to wince as her ribs protested.

"Sakura?" He repeated, hesitating over the unfamiliar syllables.

"Strider," she returned mockingly.

It failed to have the intended effect however, as Strider simply brushed it off and continued to consider her thoughtfully. Sakura suddenly felt very juvenile. He tilted his head slowly, as if trying to look at her from a new perspective.

She was an oddity, this girl he'd found, Aragorn decided. Her bright colouring made her stand out like no other, her build was slim and somewhat short – she looked fragile – and yet there was such strength in her. It practically radiated out of her, in her words, in her attitude, even simply in the way she held herself. She was proud, this girl, he thought. She had eyes like steel. Her arms and legs were so skinny he'd almost have thought her unhealthy, were it not for the fact that he'd felt those hard thick muscles, when he'd helped her sit. Her dialect, her accent and manner of speech were not like any he had ever come across, and he had travelled far and wide in his youth. Wherever she was from, and by whatever magic she had come here, he was certain she was as alien to Middle Earth as an Orc in Rivendell.

"Let me be clear, my lady," he said at last, "The names of Bree, and Eriador, and even of Middle Earth itself mean nothing to you?"

"No," she snapped, even as her ridiculously weak and jittery knees gave up and she plopped down onto her bottom. He noticed that since she'd woken up, she'd not once taken her eyes off him. She was clearly wary, frustrated, possibly even scared, though she hid it behind irritability. And yet this 'Sakura', for all she didn't trust him, had yet to act toward him with any true hostility. He wondered if it was some sort of debt she felt toward him.

Sakura shifted uncomfortably, aware that this man had probably saved her life. Her injuries might not have been fatal, but a night spent alone and unconscious in the middle of a forest may well have been, and she knew without a doubt that she was indebted to him. Furthermore, she was feeling guilty. So far the man had been mild mannered and polite in his queries and observations, for all that he was as wary of her as she was of him. The fact that she had no idea where they were was putting them both on edge.

"My village is called Konohagakure," she offered in recompense, "In the heart of the Fire Country."

"I have never heard of such a place," said Aragorn in surprise, "Where is the Fire Country?"

It was Sakura's turn to look at him in mute shock, "It's one of the five great Shinobi Nations," she said slowly. Needless to say her companion showed no sign of recognising the name. She stared at him, and he was startled to see true fear shine through her eyes for the first time. "How far from home am I?" she whispered.

He frowned. He was not a cruel person by nature, and for all she was a stranger and possibly dangerous, first and foremost she was a distressed young girl, and he felt himself driven to offer some comfort.

"I have heard the elves' tales of worlds that are vastly different from my own, that lie across the great sea. Could it be that your home is one such place?"

"Do you think so? I'm a whole _world_ away?" she was starting to sound panicked, "How will I ever get home?"

"The elves have begun sailing, so I have heard tell," Strider said soothingly, "If your home lies across the great sea, they will not object to your joining their voyage. I am a friend of the elves."

"But what if it isn't?" she cried, beginning to sound mildly hysterical. Sakura pulled at her hair, looking wild eyed. Strider leaned back slightly. "I don't know how I even got here!"

"I cannot tell you that," her companion told her, "but I can tell you what I saw, and you must draw your own conclusions from there."

She nodded miserably.

"You are not alone little one," he said softly, and she was surprised by his kindness. "Come, a meal will do you well, and I have business in Bree. It is a day's walk to the Inn from here; we shall have much time to talk."

He offered her his hand. She warred with herself over accepting. On the one hand her ninja instincts were screaming at her to run and keep running. On the other hand, she was alone, she had no idea where she was, or where she was going, and this man had already proved he meant her no harm…yet. No doubt he would want to know about her homeland, and why she carried weapons. If he deemed her dangerous he may turn against her. But then again, he may be able to help her. Sakura glanced from his hand to his face, hesitating over her decision. He waited patiently.

She took his hand.

He pulled her up like she weighed nothing at all, and steadied her when she wobbled. She shook it off quickly, discreetly channelling chakra to her legs to steady them. To her immense relief her chakra still worked. She felt rather silly for doubting it, it was a part of her after all, and unlikely to disappear. Still, she resisted the urge to heal herself. Her injuries were minor, and the pain would quickly fade to a level that could be easily ignored. She still didn't know whether she would need her chakra to fight and she sure as hell wasn't taking any chances.

They walked slowly at first – Sakura because her joints were still stiff and Strider because he had yet to return her pack or weapons, and had elected to carry them himself. He had, however, returned her tan cloak to her. As they walked, Strider told her about how he had seen a bright light over the tree tops, followed by a great commotion as something -her- fell from the sky and through the trees. Birds had fled the canopy shrieking and branches had snapped loudly as the force of her fall drove her through them. By the time he reached her, the strange light had disappeared, and there was nothing else left except her body – laid unmoving face-down on the ground – and the circle of fallen leaves and bits of branch that had followed her down. That certainly explained the scratches and bruises she had all over the front of her body. For her part, Sakura was trying to figure out how the hell she had gotten to this strange place – apparently another world entirely.

He noticed immediately when her thoughts took over her. The girl fell silent and began chewing her lip – a habit no doubt developed at a young age. He suspected that it was a nervous response, as much as anything else. And if he understood it right, she had much reason to be nervous. She appeared to be thinking deeply about what he had said, and how she had come to be here. He did not disturb her, and they walked in silence for near on an hour.

Sakura bit her lip and scowled, as she often did in thought. Casting her mind back, Sakura tried to replay the events before she'd lost consciousness and woken up here. She'd been with Kakashi, about to face off with Sasuke, after having failed to kill her ex-teammate as she had planned. She relentlessly pushed away the tears that threatened to rise at the thought, and suddenly stiffened as a realisation hit her. Sasuke and Kakashi. Both possessed the Mangekyo Sharingan. Sasuke could warp time and space, and Kakashi could send objects and even people to a different dimension. It was entirely possible that either one of them could have mistakenly (or purposefully in Sasuke's case, she thought angrily) sent her here. But if it was a case of _dimensions _then her situation was suddenly much direr than she'd thought. A sailboat wasn't going to fix _that_.

"Have you figured it out?"

Sakura started, surprised by his sudden question.

"I'm sorry - What?"

Strider smiled slightly. "Your face betrays your thoughts. You have been deep in thought this past hour, and have just come to a conclusion, correct?"

Sakura frowned, muttering to herself 'I'll have to work on that', making her companion chuckle quietly. She lifted her head after debating a moment how much, and how to tell him.

"I think I know what sent me here," she began, "The last thing that I remember, I was in a battle with two strong warriors of my lands, one of which betrayed us. In my home, we use different techniques to fight, many of which you might consider almost magical. Many such techniques are unique to a particular individual or clan. Both of those men possessed strong techniques which may have backfired and either one of them could have sent me here."

Strider frowned as he processed this information. "In that case I suspect Gandalf will certainly be your best chance of returning home. My business in Bree is with him. He is wise and well-versed in the magic of our world. Perhaps he may be able to reverse these 'techniques' you speak of." He looked at her in contemplation, "You are also a warrior in your world?"

Sakura nodded, glancing at the weapons pouches he still carried. He watched her thoughtfully, but she did not offer up any further information and they walked in silence until darkness began to fall. Strider instructed that they would set up camp. It seemed that her companion was well-versed in concealment, as the spot he picked lay in a small hollow overshadowed by what appeared to have been a landslip. The overhanging rock was supported by the twisted roots of the dead trees which had fallen with it, and as such their campsite would be secluded from anyone casually passing through the wilds in the dead of night.

For Sakura, it was second nature to secure the perimeter with genjutsu traps before unrolling her sleeping mat and starting a small fire. He did not question the strange symbols she made with her hands, or the faint green glow that encased them briefly after each hand-sign. Sakura quickly explained that he would need to wake her before attempting to leave the campsite; else he would be trapped in her technique. He decided not to question her, instead removing a small loaf of stale bread from his own pack, and snapping it in half. He offered one half to Sakura, who took it without complaint. It was dry, and chewy, but water from the water skin helped it down, and she was getting better at drinking from it.

They spent the night in uneasy and slightly stinted conversation, both curious, but neither willing to be too free with the information they gave. The fire slowly burnt down, until it was little more than ash, and the two fell into a light and infrequent sleep.

_**~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~**_

Normally, Sakura would be awake and alert within her first waking moments. It was a skill that ninjas perfected very very quickly. But this morning, her brain seemed to have missed the memo, because it took her a good few minutes to realise that the cheerful chirping she could hear was not, in fact, just the soundtrack for her dream, but was actually being made by a real, singing dawn chorus, and that the damn birds weren't going to shut up. Groaning quietly, Sakura sleepily nuzzled her pillow, basking in the warmth it radiated and desperate to cling onto the last few moments of sleep. Her brow furrowed slightly as her drowsy mind processed that particular piece of information…warmth? Come to think of it when had she gone to bed? She'd been up well past midnight talking to Strider…talking to Strider?…talking to-

"Wah!" She jerked up and scrambled away, tripping over herself and landing unceremoniously on her back, legs in the air. 'Ow' she muttered, clutching her head and rocking onto her bottom, severely embarrassed by his poorly muted sniggering.

Of course. They'd been sat by the fire side-by-side, exchanging stories and facts and she'd managed to fall asleep on him. Wonderful.

"I'm flattered that you trust me enough to sleep in my presence," He teased her. She couldn't help rolling her eyes. It seemed that her companion was in an amiable mood this morning.

"Well I suppose I've got no choice but to trust you now." She said with an awkward smile, even as her inner self was tearing out her hair (**"**_**How**_** much of an idiot could I be?"**). He nodded, and cleared his throat a little uncomfortably as they descended into awkward silence once more. Sakura fidgeted, making a show of brushing herself off and patting down her hair, for once not looking at him. Strider busied himself with stamping out the remains of the fire and gathering up the travelling packs. He hesitated a moment before offering hers back to her. She took it with some surprise – though she noticed that he still hadn't returned her weapons to her. She tightened her mouth, but didn't mention it. She merely slung it over her shoulder and tugged up the hood of her cloak. At least she knew he was unlikely to try and hurt her, and perhaps that meant that he really did want to help. Sakura felt more than a little out of her depth – making friends with anyone and everyone was much more Naruto's stick than hers.

They stood in fidgety, uncomfortable silence for a long drawn out moment. At last, Strider cleared his throat again.

"Your technique, are you not to dispel it?" he asked hesitantly, and Sakura fumbled with her pack in surprise.

"Oh! Right, yes. Of course. Sorry…" she muttered quickly, and hurriedly brought her hands together with a slightly too loud "Kai!"

Strider shivered slightly, as a feeling like a light breeze washed over him. But it was gone as soon as it began, and the two were left as they were before, standing opposite one another in a seemingly empty forest.

Sakura closed the front of cloak, briskly snapping the fasteners together. "Shall we go then?" she asked without looking up.

"Yes, I believe so," he said and strode past her, "Onward to Bree."

The walk to Bree was spent in occasional, stinted conversation. Feeling the quiet threaten to gape open like crevasse, Sakura became a little more generous with her information in her effort to break it. Despite being a trained Kunoichi, which in theory meant that she should prefer silence, Sakura had been on a team with Naruto, and she'd never thought it possible that she'd miss the constant chatter. So, she told Strider small things, unimportant things. The trees here were different to those back home. She liked the songs of the birds here – they were less harsh than the calls of the birds in her village. She was named after a flower, because of her hair colour, and her full name meant "Springtime of Cherry Blossoms". He told her that he lived in the wilds. That the trees here were not the most beautiful he had seen, and that he was known by many names. He listed a few of them for her, some of which made her giggle (much to her surprise, because she hadn't _giggled_ in a very long time. She put it down to nervousness.)

"Longshanks? Really?"

He looked pained. "Really. I prefer Strider."

"I can see why," she looked at him curiously. "Don't you have a real name?"

He raised an eyebrow, and Sakura flushed, feeling rude all of a sudden.

"I mean, a name your parents gave you?"

"Very few know me by that name Sakura. I would keep it that way."

Feeling uncomfortable with the grave turn the conversation appeared to have taken; Sakura quickly changed the subject, and randomly pointed to a plant, asking what it was. She wasn't really interested in the answer, leastways until he told her it had medicinal properties. Then she was quick to plumb the depths of his knowledge, and was startled to discover that he knew a lot about medicinal plants and how to use them. He pointed things out to her as they walked, commenting on their usefulness or how they were used. He was most eloquent on the subject of Kings Foil, a plant that, when juiced, seemed to be able to clean or cure damn near anything.

At long last, the flora thinned and gave way to a dirt road, dry and dusty, and just wide enough for a cart. They turned right and began at a brisk pace to walk toward Bree. The conversation dwindled quickly, and the last few miles were walked in silence.

Bree, Sakura found, resembled some of the more backwater villages of the Fire Country, where 'modern' conveniences were few and far between. The houses were one or two stories, wooden framed with thatched roofs and shuttered windows. From each and every roof rose a chimney, some of which already blew smoke into the air in steady trickle; the indications of healthy log fires burning in their grates. The roads were cobbled, lined torches or gas lanterns, and marked with the tracks of carts and horses. Sakura was most surprised by the Horses, which seemed to be the primary beast-of-burden. Horses were much less common in her homeland, and Oxen were used instead. There were no Oxen here. As if that wasn't enough, it was not only humans that walked the streets of Bree, but also smaller beings, which Strider whispered were Hobbits. They were half the size of the men, human-like but plumper in general, all with curly hair and large hairy feet. They trotted down the street on small ponies, and many could be seen smoking pipes enthusiastically outside squat cottages with large circular doors. Sakura thought they were rather cute. Over all, she thought, she could have wound up somewhere much worse.

She didn't fail to notice that the villagers gave them a wide berth. Or rather, she mentally corrected, they were giving Strider a wide berth - and her by extension. He cut an intimidating figure; she had to admit, being so tall and completely cloaked. She was beginning to see where the name "Strider" came from. He didn't so much walk as march through the village, every long stride radiating confidence and strength.

And she began, for the first time, to bless her fortune that it was Strider who had found her. Her brief stay with him in the woods had shown her that he could be trusted for the most part, and the sword tucked away under his cloak suggested that should he be needed in a fight he'd be more than capable. His demeanour was not one of an amateur. He had a friend that may be able to help her – so far her only lead and therefore worth investigating. And his curiosity, if nothing else, would most likely mean he'd keep her around. She may be no Naruto, but she made a mental note to improve her friendship with him if she could. Life as a ninja had taught her that good allies were worth holding on to, and as much as it pained her independence to think it, Sakura didn't want to be totally alone in this alien place.

**To be continued…**

**For your benefit, changes (if they're not obvious) made to this chapter include:**

**Roughly the first 1,300 words are completely new**

**The rest of it has been added to, changed, and even removed in some places.**

**Last part of the chapter has been taken out of this chapter and moved to another one.**

**The falling asleep by the fire bit has been edited – more awkwardness!**

**More lead up, more development etc. etc. etc.**

**Correct geography (gotta love that map)**

**Longer chapter! :) **

**~Devi1OnUrShou1der~**


	3. Chapter Two

**When In Middle Earth: The edited, revised and face-lifted edition****:**

**When in Middle Earth, do as the Middle-Earthlings do. ****Sakura finds herself in the midst of Middle Earth, immersed in a war she has no part in, saving a world and people she doesn't know, and why? Because Naruto would be disappointed in her if she ever got back and told him she hadn't...**

_**Chapter Two:**_

_**In which Sakura learns about Rangers, and she and Strider reach an Understanding**_

**Disclaimer: **

**The Lord of The Rings, it's associated characters and components are copyright and property of its author J. R. R. Tolkien, the actors that played them, and the director of the trilogy of films of the same name, Peter Jackson. The character Sakura and any components associated with the manga and anime 'Naruto' are property and copyright of Masashi Kishimoto**

**The story continues:**

It was dusk by the time they made it to The Prancing Pony. They passed the stables as they approached the building, and Sakura found her nose assaulted with the smell of horses, straw and the faintest scent of manure. She eyed the horses somewhat warily, unused to the animals. The stalls faced out onto the courtyard, allowing the horses to stick their heads over their doors and observe the passers by. The animals snorted and whinnied as they passed, the noise mixing with the rumble of cart wheels and the laughter that spilled out of the Inn and into the courtyard.

The Inn was a sprawling building that looked a bit like someone had taken several of the little Hobbit-houses and strung them together into an extra wing. The main building was of the same wooden-frame variety that made up the rest of the village, and spread out in a sort of L-shape around a dusty cobblestone courtyard. Dormer windows stuck out of the roof – Sakura guessed that the innkeeper lived above the inn – while several chimneys filled the air above it with wood smoke. A creaky wooden sign swung over the door, and bore a faded painting of a fat black pony with its hooves in the air.

Light flickered into life in the windows as somebody began lighting candles and lanterns, lending a yellow glow to the wood smoke, and someone inside began to sing. It was muted by the walls, but loud and off-key enough to find its way outside nonetheless. Sakura couldn't make out the words entirely – something about a dragon? - but the words she did hear were most cheerfully crude.

The whole place radiated raucous laughter and the kind of warm-hearted joy that good ale brings about, while the mouth watering scent of roasting pork drifted out of the doorway and straight to Sakura's stomach. It responded with an audible growl. She heard Strider make a soft noise under his hood – what may or may not have been a laugh. She rubbed her gut ruefully and decided to let it go.

"You mentioned a meal?" she asked him, hopefully. That time he definitely chuckled.

"I did. Come, I shall be the gentleman and pay, most especially because I doubt you possess the currency."

She had the grace to look a little shamefaced. "I'll pay you back," she told him honestly. "I don't much like being in debt."

Aragorn looked at her, and saw earnestness in her eyes. She had an honest face, this girl he'd found. She made little attempt to hide her emotions. Finally, he nodded, and steered her toward the door of The Prancing Pony. Sakura made to remove her hood, but Strider discreetly caught her hand behind her and held her wrist gently. The subtlest of head-shakes was all the message he offered, but she got it. She left the hood up.

They entered through a sturdy wooden door, carved with the same fat pony that decorated the sign above the door, and found themselves in a large comfortable foyer. There was a tall wooden desk that Sakura soon realised was actually an extension of the bar, which simply continued through the dividing wall to function as a reception of sorts. A large bell jangled as Strider pushed the door open, and a loud, jovial voice called out that he'd be there shortly. And true enough, shortly after, a plump, rosy cheeked man bustled through the doorway that divided the bar and the foyer, only to come to a sudden halt as he set eyes on them.

"N-Now Strider, I d-don't want any trouble…" He stammered, red faced. His eyes flickered nervously between her and Strider, and Sakura realised with a jolt that he thought she was another Ranger. Were the villagers afraid of Rangers? Or just of Strider? This Innkeeper was certainly unnerved by their presence.

"Of course not," Strider's voice was low and smooth, and left no room for argument. "We merely require a room." He withdrew a small pouch from under his cloak and jingled it meaningfully. The Innkeepers eyes zeroed in on it like a hawk. His chins wobbled as he ran his tongue around his mouth – a nervous habit, no doubt.

"Well then," he said jovially, and Sakura was vaguely impressed that he'd erased almost all of the nervousness from his voice. Money, apparently, was the key to this mans heart. "I've got some lovely big rooms available, fires already lit, lovely view over the countryside-"

"My usual," Strider interrupted silkily, "If you'd be so kind."

"Oh of course, of course," the Innkeeper recovered quickly, "I merely wondered if you'd not want a larger room, being as there be two of you?"

"It will be fine,' said Strider shortly, leaning over the counter and plucking a key from the row of hooks on the Innkeepers side. "Have a cot set up for my companion, won't you?"

_**~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~**_

Their room was simple, and comfortable. It was not large, but wide enough for a bed and a cot, with a simple wooden chair in one corner and small mat in front of the fire, which appeared to be woven from differently coloured strips of fabric. A 'rag rug' Strider had called it with a smile in his voice. Sakura was rather fond of it, and found it a most comfortable place to sit, not least because Strider usually claimed the only chair for a quiet smoke by the window. In Konoha, the Third Hokage was the only person Sakura had ever known to smoke a pipe, yet here it seemed that every man had one. She'd quickly gotten the hang of building a log-fire, and had taken over the job, much to Strider's amusement. Now, a merry blaze was already crackling in the grate, and coupled with the smell of Striders tobacco smoke, the room was filled with a delightful scent of smoke, wood-polish and the pine that the Innkeeper had provided. It gave off a lovely smell as it burned.

They took their meals downstairs, in the dining hall. It was a large room, lit by the light of a monumental fire and spit, upon which some or other of the Innkeepers livestock always seemed to be roasting – large cuts of beef or a whole suckling pig – and the delicious scent of the meat drew the patrons in like moths to a light. The menu didn't change much – meat and two veg. – hearty food that'd put meat on your bones, or so the Innkeeper said. She certainly couldn't fault the man for a home-cooked meal. Sakura had seen the barn and fields behind the Inn, when she'd taken a 'tour' of the place - a tour that actually involved only herself and one very discreet clone, and every trick in the book. She may not know a lot about farming, but it was clear even to her that the man knew how to look after his animals. She'd seen a vegetable plot out there too, well tended by the look of it.

The bar adjoined the dining hall with little more than a change from chairs to barstools to show which was which. The entire place had wooden floors, which had given Sakura some concern when she first saw the fire, and thick, exposed beams, which she loved. More than one night after Strider had retired to their room; Sakura had concealed herself up in those beams and entertained herself with the comings and goings of the patrons.

During the day, Sakura passed the time walking around the village. She followed Strider's example, and kept her cloak on and her hood up, but she had her own reasons for keeping her features hidden. Ninja's were naturally paranoid – and if they weren't, they learned to be. Quickly. And nobody (with the possible exception of Naruto) stood out more than Sakura did. Pink hair was rare enough in her own world; here it was unheard of. Not to mention that she felt downright naked without her weapons on her.

Strider may have assured her of his friend's arrival within the week, but even if she was only to be here for a few days, she found herself wanting to stay incognito. She couldn't help but be a little unnerved by the wariness that the villagers showed toward her. It was a strange mixture of respect and fear that was not unlike the response civilians showed toward ninja at home. But nobody here knew what a ninja was. She found herself wondering what it was exactly that Rangers did, to command that same reaction wherever they went.

And so, over dinner in a quiet corner of the Inn, she asked Strider. For a long moment he simply looked at her, with his fork dangling from his hand, deciding what and how much to tell her.

"My people are the last remnant of the Dúnedain," he told her at last, setting down his fork. "Once, we were a great people – bearing the blood of Kings – and Arnor was our Kingdom. But those days are long past. In this day we are Watchers of the wild places. We patrol the boundaries of Eriador, and I have heard tell of our brethren in Ithilien. We are protectors, Sakura, skilled with the sword, bow and spear, and quick of step and of wit." He paused, and offered a bittersweet shrug, "In this day and age however, to most we are little more than dangerous enigma's, useful only as mercenaries when they need us. They know us as soldiers and hunters. Wild men, they call us, and many other names." He shrugged again. "We do not offer names, and they do not ask, and so they are free to name us as they please."

"Mercenaries?" Sakura repeated, swallowing a mouthful of delicious roast chicken.

"When the occasion calls for it," he agreed, and speared a carrot with a meaningful look at the meal, "but it is not our primary objective, nor our only means of supporting ourselves. We are men of honour."

She bristled. "You think a mercenary is dishonourable?"

Strider considered her with a look that felt uncomfortably like he was looking directly through her.

"Not always," he said, diplomatically. "I take it your warriors are mercenaries of a sort?"

"Of a sort," Sakura sniffed, but felt a little harsh, and added: "It is our village's primary means of income." Strider looked intrigued.

"I have never heard of a village of mercenaries…are all of your people such? Are you a mercenary Sakura?"

For a moment Sakura clammed up entirely, suddenly regretting that she'd brought the topic up and opened up this line of questioning. But her brain quickly took over and told her that she owed him that much, at least, in return. He had answered her questions with patience after all, and she had had many over the past few days that they had been in each others company.

"You could call me that, though we have a different word for it in our own language. We are known as Ninjas, or Shinobi. We are trained as ninja from the day we enter the academy, and begin taking on assignments – missions – when we are twelve years old."

Aragorn couldn't help it; he choked. Twelve?

"But that is barely out of childhood!" he exclaimed, "How old are you?"

"It is rude to ask a woman her age," answered Sakura, but with little venom.

"It is more rude to stare, and that is what I would surely have ended doing, if I were to attempt to figure it out myself."

She snorted. Quick of wit indeed.

"I am sixteen, almost seventeen, if you must know," she replied primly, hardening her gaze and daring him to belittle her for her age. Instead, he merely shook his head ruefully. She thought she heard him mutter something along the lines of 'So young…' but the noise of the Inn was more than sufficient to smother it, and she couldn't be certain. She elected to take the high road and ignore it. But even so her eyes narrowed. She was no damn child, and she'd prove it a thousand times over if she had to.

"How old are you then?" she asked snidely, as if indicating that she thought him rather old indeed. "Forty?"

He laughed. "More than that, but I thank you for the comparison. My people are rather significantly long lived, for men." Somehow Sakura got the feeling that when he said 'men' he was not referring to the gender so much as the species. And that led to the question: just how many kinds of people lived in Middle Earth? She knew there were Hobbits, and she was sure he had mentioned 'elves' before. The idea was staggering for someone who came from a world of humans alone. And short-lived humans at that. Ninja didn't tend to live long enough to be considered otherwise.

"Old man," she said matter-of-factly, for lack of a decent retort, and promptly popped a piece of potato into her mouth. But her eyes didn't leave his face, watching for his reaction.

"Little girl," he replied sarcastically, and picked up his fork again.

She scowled at him. He smirked at her. She swallowed hard and stuck her tongue out at him.

"Use that to eat," he advised.

_**~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~**_

_**It was night, and there was a chill in the air. Sakura stepped lightly along the road, the only sound the soft rustling of her cloak as it brushed against her thighs. It was a new moon that night - a perfect night for walking about unseen – and she was feeling restless. She'd never felt uneasy in the dark before, but the air felt heavy. She put it down to the fact that she still didn't have her kunai pouch back.**_

_**The street was lit by little more than starlight; the lamps had long since burned down. Dirt from the road kicked up as she stepped, muddying her exposed toes. This was one of the times that she found the open-toed sandals that ninja favoured to be highly impractical. Her toes were bloody cold. Come to think of it, so was most of the rest of her. Sakura drew her cloak tighter about herself and shivered, and thought about looking for a tailor tomorrow. She could use a long-sleeve shirt. A short pang of guilt hit her gut at the thought of borrowing yet more money from Strider, and she resolutely clenched her arms under her cloak to keep herself from shaking.**_

_**She had been insisting from the beginning that she would repay him. But in truth, she hadn't the faintest idea how. He had been so very generous, most especially since she was a stranger, and he owed her nothing. Right now it felt like she owed him everything. She had been putting her big brain to use, keeping careful track of how much money exactly Strider had spent on her, and trying to get to grips with the currency. But she had no idea how she could get hands on enough of it to actually pay back what was shaping up to quite a sum. She didn't think either of them had given much thought to it when they'd first arrived in Bree. She'd assumed she would be here a few days and then the whole thing would be nothing more than an unbelievable story to tell the Konoha Twelve.**_

_**But they'd been at the Prancing Pony for almost a week now. And so far there hadn't been any sign of Striders friend Gandalf. Even the normally enigmatic Strider was beginning to show signs of agitation. He'd taken to smoking like a train. Sakura had taken to washing her clothes in the bath with her, because a week without changing her clothes left her feeling greasier than bag of chips. She was only grateful that the Inn at least had a decent washhouse. Having said that, it didn't seem to her like many of the patrons used it. Ninja's might be used to spending weeks in the same clothes but they at least packed a few spares and made sure to get a good wash along the way. Having a traceable scent could be tantamount to a death sentence. Still, she had noticed that the smell became less obvious the more time she spent among the patrons. The more she got used to it the less she smelt it, as it were. It didn't stop her washing her clothes and hair everyday though. It might mean walking about for a couple of hours in damp clothes, but it also meant being clean, and she was much too bloody good as a medic to let herself get a cold.**_

_**Realising that her thoughts were wandering faster than her feet, Sakura turned down the main road toward the gate, and returned her mind to the problem of paying back Strider. If this Gandalf character still hadn't arrived then she may be here a little longer than she'd originally thought. But maybe she could pick up a couple of jobs while she was here? Strider had said that Rangers were sometimes employed as mercenaries…and the villagers already presumed her to be another Ranger…**_

_**Suddenly, a cry split the air. Startled, she ran toward the gate with barely a thought, only to find the gateman crumpled by his hut, knocked back the gate, which hung open and swinging dangerously close to him. Sakura skidded to a halt, dust flying up in a trail behind her as she dropped to the old man's side. He wheezed when she placed a hand on his chest, and she channelled a little stream of chakra into what she was sure was the bruise from the gate hitting him. Worriedly, she took stock of his pale face and wide eyes. But those eyes weren't aimed at her. He was looking fearfully at something beyond the gate, and Sakura turned apprehensively toward the opening.**_

_**From it Sakura heard the snorting of what sounded like a large horse, and a wheezy hiss of breath as the rider exhaled. She could barely make out their outline against the black night. She couldn't be entirely sure, but she had the distinct impression that he… –she… –**__**it**__** was looking directly at her. And it was creepy as all hell.**_

_**And then, without a word, it was gone. **_

_**~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~**_

"The villagers are nervous," Sakura said, as she took breakfast with Strider in their room. He had taken the chair again, and his pipe sat on the windowsill. She sat cross-legged on her cot, nibbling on a piece of bread, smothered with pork dripping. "Is it to do with what I saw last night?"

Strider paused, fork partway to his mouth. He frowned at her like he'd never frowned before, and she slowly stopped chewing.

"Do not dwell on that," he said finally, "It is not of concern to you. It is nothing you need to know about."

Sakura narrowed her eyes dangerously.

"It didn't _look_ like nothing."

"Trust me."

"**Right,"** she muttered in her own language, digging back into her breakfast, **"trust a guy who won't even tell me his real name." **She ignored the assessing look he sent her, and concentrated on filling her mouth.

Aragorn considered the girl as she ate, now obviously intent on ignoring him. He could not blame her for being dissatisfied, but despite their relatively harmonious week together he did not know yet what he could truly reveal to her. Gandalf was late, and though he said nothing, he could tell that she knew he was beginning to worry. She was dangerously perceptive, and she knew that the rider she had seen was bad news. He'd been alarmed when she'd rushed into the room, and he was ashamed now to know that his hand had moved toward his sword. But he'd hesitated, and that was all it took for him to realise his mistake. Sakura had gained a lot of trust that night, when he realised what she had seen, and realised that she had rushed to his side to warn him. He hadn't yet figured out what she would have done if he had actually grabbed his weapon.

The silence stretched out with bitter discontent. The only sound in the room was the barely perceptible sound of chewing and the crackling of the fire, which never seemed to go out. Much to his surprise, it was Sakura who broke it. Admittedly, he was somewhat relieved, because he'd been trying to think of something to say. Despite his years, he had little experience with smoothing the ruffled feathers of teenage girls.

"They think I'm a Ranger," she said offhandedly. "The man at the gate was quite surprised to realise I was a girl, actually. I promised him I would check on his chest wound today."

"You know about medicine?" Strider asked, in the equally offhanded way that said 'we are going to pretend we didn't just have a disagreement, and that we have been talking casually like this all morning.'

She shrugged. "I'm a field medic."

"What must it be like, I wonder," he mused half to himself, "to live in a village which trains its healers to fight."

"It's fighters to heal," she corrected, with the kind of grim smile that implied that she knew that it wasn't much better, but that she didn't want to hear his opinion on the matter. Aragorn decided to address her first point instead. It was as good a subject change as any.

"I have heard some of the Patrons label you as 'Stranger'," he told her mildly, "You have been named it seems."

"Stranger, the Ranger? The imagination of this village astounds," said Sakura sarcastically. She wiped her mouth with a rag and tossed it into the fire with a scoff.

"They are simple people, Sakura. It is a frightening word."

"I noticed," she answered sourly. But she looked thoughtfully into the fire, and the depth of her thoughts soon pulled the frown from her face. "Am I to play a Ranger then?" she asked him, without looking at him. He turned to her in some surprise. She was looking to him for instruction now? She was perhaps used to taking orders, he thought.

"It is as good a reason for your being here as any," he said with a thoughtful nod, "and they will not ask questions, which is in your interest, I've no doubt. You shall not have to reveal your face, if you do not wish to, nor your name." She nodded, still watching the fire, until her eyes took on a hardened glint and she turned her head to him.

"What are they afraid of, Strider?" she asked, and he found himself surprised by the renewed suspicion in her eyes. "There is something you are not telling me." Apparently the result of her deep thought was not, as he'd hoped, a mellowing of her temper. Contrarily, she seemed more agitated than he had yet seen her.

And still, he was silent. She huffed and continued, "There is something here that they are all afraid of, and they are more afraid of it than they are of you. Or me. Us, whatever. You know what it is."

Infuriatingly, he turned away.

"I told you not to dwell on that Sakura."

Sakura's temper was not good at the best of times, and while she'd been controlling it pretty well over the past week, right now she was a ninja on edge. Shinobi as a rule didn't like the unknown – especially when the unknown was perceived to be dangerous – and it was making her nervous. Not to mention Strider's adamant refusal to tell her anything. He was treating her like a child! She angrily stomped over to his chair, ignoring the small dents left in the floorboards as she did so. Strider, however, didn't fail to notice, and his eyes widened comically at this implication of her strength.

"Actually," she said with a bitter kind of smugness, desperately trying to keep her voice level, "You told me not to dwell on what I saw, which means that rider - or whatever it was - is precisely the thing that you are hiding. You also told me to trust you, which, despite everything I have ever been told to the contrary, I actually want to do. But how can I when you are so damned secretive?" Her voice gained in volume with every word she spoke, 'til her voice could only be described as an outright growl. "And while you're at it, why don't you just call me Stranger, since actual names are such a bloody mystery to you!"

She was actually panting slightly as she finished, eyes blazing with a fire he hadn't seen in them before. Her fists were clenched, Aragorn noticed. For a long time it was silent in the room; a tense, overbearing silence the like of which put all other silences between them to shame.

He sighed again. "I can see this is not a subject which you will drop readily, but please understand that I cannot yet tell you, Sakura. I would rather that Gandalf be here." he said softly, once again using the soothing voice she had heard him use when first he found her. Her nostrils flared angrily as she remembered the comparison she'd made with that voice – she was no damned animal to be calmed! Her glare did not let up in the slightest. She opened her mouth, ready with what he'd bet was a scathing retort, but he held up a hand to forestall her.

"But," he said firmly, "you have my word that I will do so soon. I have been doing much thinking these past days Sakura, and I believe you may be able to help me."

This brought forth a lessening of the glare, but as it was replaced with merely more suspicion, it was not much of an improvement.

"I will honour my promise of assistance Sakura; I will do what I can to return you to your home. However, I need you to trust me, and to know that I can trust you."

Sakura regarded him for a moment, taking in his earnest and weary expression, and nodded slowly. She did need this man and his friends, if she wanted to get home. She had to keep remembering that. And above all she owed him a debt, which would have to be repaid somehow.

"If I tell you my name, understand that you must not repeat it. If we are in the presence of another, address me only as Strider. Do I have your word?"

"Yes," she replied without hesitation.

He paused a moment, before beginning "I have my own reason's for not revealing it. I beg you not to ask them. But my name is Aragorn."

**To be continued…**

**For your benefit, changes (if they're not obvious) made to this chapter include:**

**Pretty much the whole thing. I decided to expand a bit more on Sakura's stay in Bree, since when I went back over my original chapters I felt I'd just glossed over it and moved on too quickly. Thus, here we see a bit more development on her relationship with Aragorn and their trust issues, which were also glossed over and done with too quickly. **

**New content, and it is a much longer chapter overall.**

**Takes place over about a week, if it's not obvious.**

**~Devi1OnUrShou1der~**


	4. Chapter Three

**When In Middle Earth: The edited, revised and face-lifted edition****:**

**When in Middle Earth, do as the Middle-Earthlings do. ****Sakura finds herself in the midst of Middle Earth, immersed in a war she has no part in, saving a world and people she doesn't know, and why? Because Naruto would be disappointed in her if she ever got back and told him she hadn't...**

_**Chapter Three:**_

_**In which Sakura makes herself useful, and Hobbits learn the benefit of discretion **_

**Disclaimer: **

**The Lord of The Rings, it's associated characters and components are copyright and property of its author J. R. R. Tolkien, the actors that played them, and the director of the trilogy of films of the same name, Peter Jackson. The character Sakura and any components associated with the manga and anime 'Naruto' are property and copyright of Masashi Kishimoto**

**The story continues:**

"The gateman was ok," Sakura said conversationally, "He sends his gratitude for the Kings Foil. His chest would have been better two days ago, to be honest, if he'd only leave off the smoking for a bit, but there really is no talking to old men…"

Her companion didn't respond. Her eyes tracked him as Aragorn paced in front of the fire, pausing only to peer through the fogged windows, before irritably returning to his pacing. She half expected to see a groove forming where he walked. He was clearly agitated. His pipe was in his mouth and he smoked it viciously, his fingers were white around it, and had she not known better Sakura might almost have thought the pipe had done him some personal ill. He was certainly abusing it enough. Soft thumps marked his passage from one side of the room to the other, and she was expecting someone below them to start banging on the ceiling with a broom anytime now.

Sakura drummed her fingers thoughtfully against the side of her cot. She lounged back with one leg propped up on her knee; one hand resting lightly on the leather bound book open on her stomach and the other along her side. It was Strider's own handwritten journal, a complete log of all the plants he knew of and their medicinal properties. He had leant it to her a couple of days ago, after she'd told him she was a field medic. It was intriguing. She had been surprised to find that many of the same plants that could heal could also be used as a poison if only a different part were used, and that he had incredibly neat handwriting. He'd even drawn meticulous little diagrams of each one, with little footnotes to illustrate differences between similar plants. Right now, however, he was wearing a hole in the floor.

"He told me that another of those riders – the ones with the black horses – came by last night," she continued, "All headed the same way, so he said."

This got a growl, and clenched fists, but little answer else. Sakura watched him make another circuit around the room. With a start, she realised that she was tapping her fingers in time with his footsteps, and quickly closed her fist. She knocked her knuckles against the side of the bed a couple of times in thought. Idly, she reached for the piece of cloth she'd pulled out of the rug and tucked it neatly between the journal's pages to mark her spot. Then, she tossed the little book gently onto the bed and swung her feet over onto the floor. Her fingers wrapped around the edge of the cot and leaned forward slightly, tucking her elbows in close.

"I convinced one of the guys downstairs to teach me the dragon song," she offered.

Aragorn frowned disapprovingly but only crossed again to the window and peered out. Sakura sighed. Getting a reaction out of this guy was like prying a tooth out of a dead horse with no pliers. Her bangs blew gently as she huffed, and rested her elbows on her knees. Her pupils lazily drifted from side to side as she watched him. She didn't need to ask to know what the problem was – Aragorn's friend was now late by several days, and it was becoming obvious that he would not be coming at all. She found herself wishing she knew what to say. If Naruto were here he would deliver some loud, brilliant pep talk and everyone in the vicinity would be up and about and in high spirits again in seconds.

"You know," she said, inspired, "if my friend Naruto ever taught me anything, it was that no matter what, he wouldn't abandon me. I doubt your friend has abandoned you either."

"No," Aragorn muttered, as he reached the door and turned smartly on his heel, marching back toward the window. "No he would not. Something has happened; something terrible…He would not abandon them so easily."

Sakura jerked upright, "_Them_?" she repeated suspiciously and sat up ramrod straight on the cot. "What 'them'? Who're 'them'?"

Aragorn abruptly stopped, as if realising he'd slipped up. He stood facing the window, standing stiller than a dead rock. Sakura slowly got to her feet, but didn't move away from the bed. "Strider?" she asked cautiously. He didn't move.

"Aragorn?"

Slowly, he turned to her. It looked to Sakura like he was warring with himself, and she saw his chest rise and fall deeply as he took a big breath in. And in seconds he was in front of her. Urgently he took her hand and looked her dead in the eye.

"What is said here must not leave this room, Sakura."

"This really is worrying you isn't it?' she said softly, looking at him with concern. She wasn't used to seeing the great Strider look worried. "You have my word." Sakura said firmly. She seemed to be saying that a lot lately, but it seemed to put him at ease. Aragorn had a habit of scanning her face, she'd found, like he was reading her thoughts across her forehead. _'Your face betrays your thoughts'_ he'd said to her once. He must have seen no deception in her eyes, because he nodded and squeezed her hand. Her steady pulse under his fingertips told him that she spoke no lies. His frantic pulse under her hand told her that he was even more worried than he was letting on.

"Tell me what's going on Aragorn," she pleaded quietly. It was the same voice she used on Kakashi-sensei to break through his armour. Aragorn closed his eyes with a grim smile. But he could trust her to keep her word. He could trust Sakura.

"There are four hobbits coming," he said, and the gravity in his eyes told her that this was a heavy situation. This was serious business. Unconsciously she stood up straighter. "One of these hobbits carries an object of great value and power. Gandalf the Grey, a great wizard, was meant to meet them here in Bree, and it was he who contacted me with instruction to be here also. He would have me accompany them as far as Rivendell, the land of the elves and a place that will be safe for them," here he paused, and a shadow passed over his face, "and the object they carry."

Somehow, Sakura had the distinct feeling that this 'object' had a lot more significance than he was admitting to, but she didn't push it. Instead, she put on her most attentive face and waited as patiently as she could to be filled in. Aragorn was suddenly looking more tired, older than he'd ever looked.

"Something must have befallen him, Sakura," he told her, "and I fear the worst."

She nodded slowly, brain whirring.

"These hobbits, they are on their way here? Right now?" she repeated with apprehension. "Alone?"

"I fear so," he confirmed dismally. "You recall the Black Rider you saw at the gate?" She nodded. "They are dark creatures who are seeking this object, no doubt pursuing the Halflings as we speak. I fear for their safety. Sakura, I know you are a mercenary in your homeland. I would not put such a burden on one so young, but I will not abandon you, and I know you can help me. Will you?"

Sakura took a moment to absorb all this. Aragorn, seeing this as hesitance, thought quickly.

"I can pay you Sakura, thrice as much as you owe me if you think that sum proper."

She shook her head immediately. "I don't want paying, but if you will consider this payment of my debt to you?" He nodded, and she mimicked the gesture. She spoke slowly "And what about sending me home?"

He wasted no words "I do not doubt, if it is at all in his power, that Gandalf will meet us in Rivendell."

Sakura frowned in thought. Here was a situation handed to her on a platter - a chance to repay her debt to the Ranger and prove her worth, and yet he seemed so...concerned. But if these hobbits were in danger - and they most certainly were - then, basically, it boiled down to "Protect the innocent and go home". She had seen hobbits in Bree, and they hardly looked like the sort that could cope with it. They were small, vulnerable creatures, and the very moment he'd mentioned protecting the Halflings she'd been assaulted by her conscience (who sounded suspiciously like Naruto) demanding that she help them. Not to mention that his friend may be her only chance of going home.

**'Mission accepted.' **she thought.

"I want my weapons back," she said.

Relieved, Aragorn squeezed her hand gently.

"Thank you Sakura."

_**~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~**_

Sakura had taken to visiting the gate each morning, to check on the gate-keeper, who, when all was said and done, was just a suspicious old man with an unhealthy love of tobacco. He was mistrusting and invariably short when he had no choice but to speak with her, but even so he could be counted upon to recount every incident of the previous night. He insisted that she check his chest every other day, but she quickly learned to simply relay Striders instructions as to the use of a Kings Foil poultice and send him to bed while his grandson relieved him of the watch.

And then he'd send her on her way with a very reluctant "Thank ye' Stranger."

One thing of importance that she _did_ gather from him, was that the Rider's had demanded of him the name of 'Baggins', on more than one occasion. She didn't know who 'Baggins' was, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it would not be a good day when the Rider's found him. It did cross her mind that the hobbits they were expecting may be travelling under that name, and made a note to press Strider for as many details as he'd give.

He rarely gave any, but she was getting better at reading his expressions. When she mentioned the name 'Baggins' for example, his brows drew down in a thoughtful sort of frown, as if he were trying to recall something he'd heard or read a long time ago. Whenever she brought up the Black Rider's, he bore a particularly grim face. She tried not to mention his missing friend. He struck her as a very loyal person, much like Naruto, in a different sort of way.

It was a strange sort of routine they'd fallen into. She'd return to the Inn for her bath – she took it at the same time each day – and the washhouse would be empty. Apparently being a Ranger commanded privacy, because she'd not had to share it since the first day she'd used it. She'd ruffle her damp hair as she walked back to the Inn, and tug up her hood as she passed through the door into the dining hall. Aragorn would have already commandeered breakfast, and if he were not at their usual table then he would be in their room with both meals. They'd taken breakfast in their room most days recently. Though, she'd also taken to midnight jogs across the rooftops, for fear of the sheer amount of fat that filled the Innkeeper's meals. Butterbur (she'd finally learned his name) was aptly named indeed.

On this day, she had learned that the Black Riders had not been seen by anyone the past two nights, and the gruff old man had been considerably more chipper. Butterbur sent up one of his footmen, Nob, with plates of bacon, and soft doughy bread. He dismissed himself quickly enough, and they were left to their breakfast. Each sat opposite one another on their own beds, their cloaks spilling over and onto the floor. Through mouthfuls of crumbs, she relayed what she'd learned from the gatekeeper to Aragorn, but he was not optimistic.

"That might merely mean that they are now coming back in the other direction," he said darkly.

"Then let's hope our hobbits are coming back ahead of them," said she.

She found herself alone again as the day went on. Strider had 'gone out for a walk' some time ago and yet to return. She suspected that he was traversing the borders of Bree-land or spying on the road or some such activity – no doubt growing all the more restless. She had thought about following him, but with no real idea as to the terrain or her place in it, she was more likely to be a hindrance than a help. Even so, she found herself missing his company; for all that it'd been mostly surly of late. She was a ninja used to constant activity – either in the hospital or outside the village – and sitting idly wasn't her style in the slightest. She didn't like feeling useless.

In the end she pressed Butterbur for a map and spent a good couple of hours in her room, poring over it. She stumbled over the strange names and laughed incredulously at the ridiculous annotations – 'here be dragons' indeed. She found the spot marked "Bree" and tried to trace the path she and Aragorn had taken through the woods, and tried to pick out 'Rivendell' amid the carefully hand-drawn black lines. And by the time the light faded and dusk set in Aragorn had returned.

Six'o'clock found the candles and the fire lit, the ale flowing, and the meat roasting. The two companions hooded and cloaked, sat quietly in the bustling hall of the Inn, at their usual table in the darkest corner. Once again, they awaited the arrival of their charges, just as they had the past few nights. She'd been far from fond of the drink when she'd first arrived, but now Sakura nursed her pint of the Pony's finest ale like a pro. Aragorn had lit up his pipe again, and with his being sat right back in the corner only the occasional flaring embers illuminated his chin, while the rest of him was shadowed. It gave him a rather creepy appearance and, idly, Sakura wondered if that was the desired effect. Somewhere on the other side of the room, someone began singing the dragon song again. Sakura began humming along.

"Must you do that?" Aragorn growled, puffing agitatedly on his pipe.

"I could sing it if you like."

He snorted. His eyes scanned the crowd darkly for hobbits. "There will be four of them travelling together," he muttered around the pipe, "that was the last missive I received from Gandalf. No doubt they will ask for him, when they arrive. But from here I cannot get a decent view of the reception, and rising from my seat will draw attention I do not need."

"What if we have missed them already?" Sakura murmured, raising her glass to her lips to hide her mouth.

"We must watch and listen. No doubt they will stay around in the hope Gandalf will arrive and meet with them, as he promised. If they are here, at some point one or other of them must speak that name."

Sakura made a vague hum of agreement and turned her attention back to the doorway, which led through to the foyer.

"I've got an idea," she whispered, and stood as if to go to the bathroom. Indeed, she wandered off that way and Aragorn watched silently and curiously as she disappeared around the corner, ignored by the rest of the patrons. What could be more natural than going to the bathroom? He was bemused when she returned to her seat not 5 minutes later, and wondered what exactly that was supposed to have achieved. He was about to ask, when she lifted her head and winked conspiratorially at him. Then to his surprise, she tilted her head meaningfully at the ceiling.

Only Aragorn's iron-like self control stopped him exclaiming out loud, as a _second_ Sakura scurried on all-fours _upside-down_ across the high ceiling, slipping in and out of the shadows so quickly that he almost didn't believe he'd seen her. The Sakura beside him merely sat quietly sipping her ale, utterly unperturbed. He had to take a hurried puff of his pipe to stop his mouth from falling open.

"What magic is that?" he breathed, eyes tracking the copy as it slipped through the doorway and disappeared onto the foyer ceiling. He remembered Sakura telling him that warriors of her lands could use 'techniques' similar to magic, but never had he imagined such a gift. He found himself torn between admiration and apprehension, as the implications set in. If Sakura could wield magic in such a way, despite her age and size, he was suddenly much more sure that she could very well have caused him harm, weapons or not. He felt his respect for the girl increase, and his trust, as he realised that while she could have, not once did she attempt to recover her possessions from him. And more than anything, in that moment he was glad Sakura was on his side.

The clone easily made her way to the entrance halls, and slipped into the shadows between two thick beams, where she would be unseen by anyone who happened to glance at the ceiling. She tucked the hems of her copied cloak into her boots, so as to prevent them hanging down, and found the most comfortable spot to crouch in. Then, with medical precision, she channelled chakra to her eardrums to magnify her hearing, and settled in to listen.

Two nights passed in the same manner. Each night, Sakura created a clone to keep watch on the foyer, while she and Aragorn kept track of the bar and dining hall. Their hoods allowed them to observe discreetly, and if the Innkeeper noticed that they had been taking their meals in the hall more frequently over the past four days, he said nothing.

Until, finally, on a night when the rain fell like a vertical river and the clouds rumbled like an angry dragon, four very bedraggled looking Hobbits stumbled into the Inn. They were dirt-smeared and looking rather worse for wear, with their travelling cloaks ringing wet and their clothes muddy. One bore a bruise on his cheek; another, a series of scratches. They looked for all the world like they'd been dragged through a bush backwards, tumbled down a hill, and then gotten up and gone for a jog in the rain after that. There was one with very dark-hair, and it was this hobbit that wasted no time attracting the attention of the innkeeper. Sakura's clone took note of how he hesitated before stating his name, and how he repeated it unnecessarily. "Underhill" was almost certainly not his real name. She allowed herself a triumphant internal _'__**Shannaro!**__'_ as he mentioned Gandalf.

"Oh yes, I remember, elderly chap, big grey beard?" she watched pityingly as the four began to nod excitedly, only for their faces to fall when the Innkeeper continued: "Haven't seen him for 6 months" The Innkeeper took little note of their dismayed faces however, and after handing them a pair of keys, quickly bustled off to tend the bar. Sakura's clone frowned at this information, and filed it away to report to Aragorn. The hobbits looked at each other helplessly, before the fattest one appeared to take charge, and began to steer the dark-haired hobbit down the hallway towards the rooms with the circular doors. The clone followed, unnoticed on the ceiling. She made a mental note of the room numbers, watching the hobbits split into pairs and disappear through the doors. Then, with nothing more to be done, she quickly dismissed herself with a barely noticeable poof of smoke, and the original Sakura sat up abruptly in her seat downstairs, as the information flooded into her head.

"There," she whispered as they entered the dining hall some time later. "Come looking for a feed no doubt, they look like they haven't eaten in days."

Indeed, the four hobbits shuffled nervously into the hall and found a table. Two of them, the shortest one and the sandy haired one, made a beeline for the bar and returned with half-pints in each hand. The dark-haired hobbit – the one who'd named himself 'Underhill' – tried to refuse, but the drink was pushed into his hand regardless and it was obvious that his companions didn't care for the word 'no'.

"Oh look, they're teaching the little one the dragon song."

"That song is highly inappropriate."

"I bet you know all the words," she grinned at him over the rim of her glass. The corner of his mouth twitched, but he sternly moved his gaze back to the hobbits. The fat Hobbit had just pointed them out to the dark-haired one, who was now making a poor job of observing them 'discreetly'. Sakura snorted next to him, and he knew she'd seen it too.

"I'll bet you a drink that big one comes over here soon to demand what we're looking at," she whispered conspiratorially, watching the fatter hobbit, who seemed to be leacturing the dark-haired one about eating his food.

"The other one is too cautious; he'll ask the Innkeeper who we are."

Sakura watched as the big hobbit began to frown and muttered something to his companion, before making to rise from the table. But his friend clasped a hand around his arm and pulled him back down into his seat. The Innkeeper bustled past the hobbits' table a short time later, carrying a tray of glasses, and the dark one grabbed his apron as he passed. They watched as 'Underhill' motioned toward them with a subtle tilt of his head and whispered urgently with him. The Innkeeper looked up straight into two hooded gazes, and immediately dropped his head again. Sakura tried to read his lips, but only made out the words 'Strider' and 'Stranger'.

'They're them Rangers, best stay away from them,' the Innkeeper was saying, 'No-one rightly knows their names, but the tall one has been around a long time. Folks around here call him Strider.'

'Strider?' whispered Frodo, 'And the other one?'

'Showed up a couple weeks of ago. Even less is known about that one. Known only as Stranger round 'ere.' And with that he bustled off again, leaving the two hobbits to discuss unhappily.

"Damn," said Sakura. "Put it on my tab."

Aragorn grunted with amusement and tossed the money pouch to her.

"Pint of the Pony's finest, coming up." She tossed him a little salute and strolled over to the bar. The patrons seemed to flow out of her way, giving her a clear path, and two raised fingers was all it took to get two brimming pints on the bar in front of her. Damn but there were some perks to this Ranger business.

"What's that?" asked a curious, friendly little voice. Sakura turned to see the shortest of the four hobbits sat by her, swinging his legs idly. Her eyebrow slid up her forehand, and she turned to him, resting her elbow on the bar.

"A pint," she said conversationally. "I lost a bet with a friend and had to buy him one."

"It comes in Pints?" he exclaimed, "Brilliant!" He began frantically trying to wave down the Innkeeper. Sakura laughed as his efforts nearly toppled his barstool. She decided to try something, and raised a hand; the Innkeeper was over in a heartbeat.

"Nice trick," said the hobbit, suitably impressed. Sakura waved him toward the Halfling, sipping her drink. She casually slid her eyes over to Aragorn in the corner, and saw him looking back at her. She tipped her head toward the hobbit beside her, and he nodded discreetly. Permission to delay drink delivery – granted.

"I have to admit," she said lightly, "I haven't seen a lot of Hobbits on the road. Most here live locally," she nodded at the throng of Underhill's now surrounding the dark-haired hobbit, having apparently decided that he was some long lost cousin. His friend was looking severely disgruntled at the crowding. "Those there are the Underhills. Family of your friend's, no doubt?"

"Who?" he replied distractedly.

"Mr Underhill? You came with him didn't you?"

"Oh no, no I came with Frodo Baggins – that's him ther-oof!"

"Pippin!"

"Steady On!"

The fourth hobbit – the one with the sandy hair - had appeared out of the crowd like a whirlwind and grabbed 'Pippin', pulling him roughly off the barstool. "What are you doing you brainless Took?" he hissed "You can't go around yelling that name about." He looked up nervously at Sakura, who made a show of casually drinking her beer. "Come on," he muttered, pulling the other hobbit away. Sakura smirked, and sauntered back across the bar to the corner table.

"You are fired as a waitress," Strider murmured quietly as she plopped into her seat.

"But excellent as a spy," she countered, pushing his drink toward him and handing him the money pouch back under the table. "Our 'Mr. Underhill's name is in fact Baggins, Frodo Baggins I believe. And the sandy-haired one called the shorter one Pippin, but I didn't get the names of the other two."

"Not important," he muttered distractedly, "Young Mr. Baggins is definitely our hobbit."

"I'd say so; they are certainly going to lengths to hide who he is." Sakura began drumming her fingers against the tabletop, watching the four hobbits – now huddled close and discussing something avidly – with a hidden frown. She ducked her head a tad to allow her hood to fall further over her face. Something was nagging at the back of her brain, something that told her that the name 'Baggins' should mean something to her. The four hobbits looked up at them occasionally. Pippin caught her eye – he thought, she still had her hood up – and waved. She was amused to see his friend grab his hand and pin it to the table, clearly admonishing him. She gave Pippin a small wave, just to spite that friend. 'Frodo' was fingering something under his shirt nervously, she noticed, and eventually took it out and began fiddling with it, obviously not listening to his friends, who'd finally managed to disperse the Underhills. She couldn't see what it was, only that it was on the end of a long chain.

It was then that a rowdy drunk, a beefy man with eyes redder than tomatoes, staggered away from the bar singing the dragon song at the top of his voice.

_"Oooooooooh I've a bonny pet dragoooon,_

_He stands but six inches high-"_

The hobbits looked up in surprise and annoyance as he stumbled toward their table, knocking over several barstools and one or two patrons in his wake. That wouldn't have been much of a problem, save as an irritant and a tale to tell by the fire later, if he hadn't toppled directly into the hobbits' table on his way past, and knocked Baggins to the floor.

The hobbit cried out as he fell, his arms flailing as he tumbled backwards. The fatter hobbit lunged to catch him, only to knock into the drunk, who was trying to get to his feet again. Hobbit and man hit the table in a tangle of limbs. Sakura saw nothing more than a flash of gold, before Baggins hit the floor with his hands outstretched and disappeared immediately. The Inn was instantly in uproar, Aragorn had jolted forward in his seat, and Sakura – suspecting that he was about to leap up and grab the wayward hobbit (wherever he was) – instantly moved to distract the crowd.

She leapt to her feet and dropped the glass in her hand with a noisy crash, and after a calculated moment of apparent shock, bounded over to the remaining hobbits to congratulate them on their friend's performance. She loudly declared that she had "always loved magicians, though their tricks were nought but smoke and mirrors" and the patrons, breaking into relieved and accepting smiles began to join in her raucous applause. Sakura clapped Pippin on the back and as the momentum of the strong slap carried her forward, hissed the number of their room in his ear. Hobbits had good hearing apparently, because his two friends' eyes widened comically too. But Sakura had slipped away through the crowd of exited and congratulatory patrons before they could say a word.

A glance back at the corner revealed Aragorn to be nowhere in sight, and she slipped away up the stairs after him, leaving the hobbits to disentangle themselves from the crowd. A little chakra to enhance her speed and a shortcut across the ceiling, and she'd soon reached the room she shared with Aragorn. When Sakura slid into the room, it was to find him sat in his wooden chair – his posture was tense; shoulders set forward and arms resting on his knees; his expression troubled, and just a little put upon. Mr. Frodo Baggins stood nervously with his back against the cot, though it seemed to Sakura that he was trying to appear unconcerned. All the same, his hand was clenched around something, and his knuckles were white. He hadn't noticed her yet.

"Well?" said Aragorn at last; frustrated. "Why did you do that? Worse than anything your friends could have said!"

The hobbit started. Either he hadn't known about Pippin's slip up, or else Strider's knowledge of it was a surprise to him. But he only scowled and gave no response, until Strider continued with the agitated statement: "You've gone and put your foot in it now! Or should I say your finger?" Then Mr. Baggins truly showed his alarm.

"What do you mean?" he demanded quickly. "What do you want?"

"Well," said Sakura mildly from the door, "a little more caution from you might be nice." He spun around so quickly that he almost slipped, and was forced to catch himself on the edge of the cot. "Fancy vanishing in the middle of a crowded room," she continued as if he hadn't reacted at all. "Not suspicious in the slightest," she added sarcastically.

"Indeed." Aragorn's voice carried an unmistakeable edge to it. "I can avoid being seen if I wish, but to disappear entirely?" He abruptly jerked back his hood and stared meaningfully at the Hobbit, a strange sort of gleam in his eye. "That is a rare gift."

"Who are you?" The fear in his voice was evident, and only magnified when Aragorn scornfully told him that he was not nearly frightened enough.

"I know what hunts you. The black horsemen have passed through Bree."

He rose from his seat and began moving toward the hobbit, but a scuffling sound outside the door had him instantly drawing his bow, and Sakura's hands flew to her kunai-pouch. If she thought it odd that he did not draw his sword, she put it out of her mind for the time being and concentrated on the turning doorknob. Suddenly the door was flung open. It banged loudly against the wall and swung slowly on its hinges. There in the doorway stood Baggins' three companions, brandishing candlesticks and chairs, and one with his fists in the air.

"Let 'im go! Or I'll 'av you Longshanks!" the fat hobbit roared, purple in the face. The other two shook their 'weapons' at him in agreement, doing their best to look fierce. They were loyal, these hobbits, Sakura mused, even as she began calculating the trajectory needed to knock the chairs and candlesticks out of their hands with a well thrown kunai. But this wasn't her mission to lead, so she waited for Aragorn's signal. Aragorn however, looked relieved, and lowered his weapon.

"You have a stout heart little Hobbit." He said to the fat hobbit, but ignored them otherwise. He nodded to Sakura, who silently returned her knives to the pouch, and then, just for the image of the thing, closed the door with a loud snap. The Halflings jumped, not having seen her behind the door and instantly spun around with fear in their faces.

"Stranger!" The stout one exclaimed, "Ganging up on us are you? Just what do you blokes think you're doing?"

Sakura was less than impressed. _**'Bloke?' **_She drew herself up to her full height and with a flicker of her hand; she had a kunai between her fingers. She raised it sharply to point at him, and made it two steps in his direction before Aragorn intercepted her and caught her hand with surprising strength. She growled. She would have done much more if Aragorn hadn't squeezed her wrist meaningfully. Pippin looked like he wanted to say something, but Strider spoke before the hobbit could get a word in.

"Be careful Mr. Hobbit," Strider said sternly. "You could insult someone like that."

He reached up his free hand slowly, in the same way one would approach a volatile animal. Sakura's eyes slid sideways to watch him, but she made no move to stop him. Ninja were trained to follow their team leader's directions without question, and since Aragorn was not Kakashi she wasn't about to push it and oppose him… especially when he still had a strong grip on her wrist. Not in front of the hobbits, at least. They had to present a united front and all that…. Aragorn however did nothing more harmless than gently pushing back her hood to reveal her pink hair and distinctly feminine features. The look of utter, jaw dropping shock on the stout hobbit's face was totally worth it.

And with that she flicked her knife into the floor between his feet, embedding it by an inch, and levelled a fierce glare in his direction.

"You're awfully lucky that he's on your side, you know," she snarled quietly – her infamous temper was showing. Her nostrils flared and she was sure she could feel a vein throbbing in her temple.

"And that _she_ is on mine," added the Ranger in a rather meaningful voice. Sakura sniffed, and straightened up, tugging her wrist out of his grip and brushing imaginary lint off her cloak. In the process of not-looking at Aragorn, her eyes alighted on Pippin, and a thought occurred to her of a sudden.

"Did _you_ think I was a man?" she accused.

"Of course not!" Pippin cried in his defence. "Why, I thought you had one the loveliest voices as I've ever heard!"

She retreated, appeased, even as the little hobbit flushed under the scrutiny of his peers. Frodo stepped forward, and would have tried to get the conversation back on subject, if not for a knock at the door which interrupted him before he could speak.

All eyes flew to the door, and this time they knew it could not be the hobbits.

**To be continued…**

**For your benefit, changes (if they're not obvious) made to this chapter include:**

**Pretty much everything except the last 500 words or so.**

**Aragorn and Sakura experience a little more camaraderie**

**NEW EDIT: I HAVE BEEN TRAVERSING SECOND HAND BOOKSHOPS AND FINALLY GOT MY OWN COPIES OF ALL THREE LOTR BOOKS (INSTEAD OF STEALING MUM'S) AND HAVE BEEN READING THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING. I'VE FALLEN IN LOVE WITH THE BOOKS MORE THAN EVER AND SO I'M CHANGING MY STORY TO BE A BIT MORE LOYAL TO THE ORIGINAL BOOK. PEOPLE WHO HAVE READ THE BOOKS WILL RECOGNISE THOSE BITS****. Of course, people will probably be rolling their eyes at me now, since I can't seem to be happy with anything I write. Oh well.**

**SEE IF YOU CAN SPOT THE NEW CHANGES. (Hint: I've changed things in other chapters too….yeah I know, I'm a pain eh? Sorry)**

**~Devi1OnUrShou1der~**


	5. Chapter Four

**When In Middle Earth: The edited, revised and face-lifted edition****:**

**When in Middle Earth, do as the Middle-Earthlings do. ****Sakura finds herself in the midst of Middle Earth, immersed in a war she has no part in, saving a world and people she doesn't know, and why? Because Naruto would be disappointed in her if she ever got back and told him she hadn't...**

_**Chapter Four:**_

_**In which a long-overdue letter is received **_

**Disclaimer: **

**The Lord of The Rings, it's associated characters and components are copyright and property of its author J. R. R. Tolkien, the actors that played them, and the director of the trilogy of films of the same name, Peter Jackson. The character Sakura and any components associated with the manga and anime 'Naruto' are property and copyright of Masashi Kishimoto**

**The story continues:**

The knob turned slowly, as if whomever was on the other side was afraid to enter, or worse, so assured of their skill that they felt they could take the extra time.

Beside her, Sakura felt Aragorn tense, and his hand hovered over his quiver. Sakura slid a new kunai out of her leg holster and moved her legs into a ready stance. The hobbits backed up.

The knob stopped turning.

And then, came a hesitant knock.

"Mr…ah…Strider? I be'n sent lookin' fer Mr Underhill, and well, I thought I'd seen 'im with you earlier, if'n you'll pardon my sayin' so sir."

It was the unmistakeable voice of Nob – the Innkeepers hand – and behind him Sakura was certain she could hear another body shifting about and making the floorboards creak. Strider relaxed fractionally and strode to the door. In one fluid moment it was open and the Ranger filled the doorway. Sakura quickly jerked her hood back up over her face.

"Ah, Nob," he said coolly, "And Mr. Butterbur. _Do _invite yourselves in."

Nob flushed guiltily, but the two men shuffled in nonetheless. Sakura carefully tucked her arms under her cloak and out of sight.

"Mr Underhill!" declared the Innkeeper, "So you are here. Well Nob I've done you a disservice." Nob was too busy watching the Ranger warily and made no reply, and even old Butterbur shifted uncomfortably when Strider merely sat down in silence upon his chair. All eyes turned to Frodo.

"Oh, yes. We've been having a little talk," he said, with a small smile. It was a good thing that the rest of the hobbits had dropped their weapons already or the whole situation would have looked much worse than that, but Butterbur accepted the explanation with little more than a look in Strider's direction, and smiled encouragingly at the hobbit. "What brings you looking for me Mr Butterbur?" Frodo went on to ask, as politely as he could.

"Why, first of all to apologise, Mr. Hobbit, for you see my memory is less like a sponge and more like sieve these days, so to speak, and it had quite slipped my mind until earlier this evening – that is – until the commotion downstairs, caused such a stir-" here he levelled a vaguely disapproving look at Frodo, who didn't have the heart to stop his ramblings, and who was hoping he'd get to the point soon so that he could get back to questioning the Rangers. They knew so much more than he felt comfortable with, and yet had made no move to hurt him.

"-well," continued the innkeeper, "I retired to my office of a moment, to make what I could of that little shenanigan - _such_ stories I heard! – when I happened to spy on my desk this letter, and blowed if I wasn't ready to smack meself o'er the head then and there sir, for forgetting."

Frodo looked at him in bewilderment as Butterbur began to pat down every pocket on his person, and fished out a crumpled letter at last.

"It's for you sir," said he, helpfully, "leastways, I think so. That is, the old man Gandalf did pass through here, and did give it to me with a description that matches you pretty well, if I may say so, and said you'd be under the name of 'Underhill'. But bless me if there aren't enough of those here already! I'd quite forgotten. I felt that there was something I'd left out when you first asked!" he declared the last proudly, like a child showing off to their parent, but Frodo was less impressed.

"A letter from Gandalf? Well give it here, man!"

Butterbur hesitated, sending a loaded look toward Strider, and Aragorn's brows drew down with the slightest tightening at the corners of his mouth. Frodo didn't notice - the hobbit all but snatched the envelope from the Innkeepers hand. Sure enough the words: '_FRODO BAGGINS, CARE OF THE PRANCING PONY INN, BREE' _were scrawled across it in the wizard's unmistakeable handwriting. Strider confirmed it.

"That is certainly his handwriting," he mused, leaning over the little hobbits shoulder.

"You know Gandalf?" asked Frodo in some surprise, "Why did you not say so before?"

"Would you have believed me?" answered Strider. "In any case, I was about to," here he looked at Butterbur, "but that is neither here nor there. We both know him, and that letter is from him. See? He has even put a little 'G' rune down there in the corner." He pointed out the mark on the paper.

Sam shuffled closer to Frodo and looked at it distrustfully.

"It_ does _look just like that funny symbol he used to put on his fireworks Frodo," said Pippin, obviously feeling a need to contribute. His sandy-haired friend nodded vigorously in agreement.

Sakura hung back, feeling oddly left out all of a sudden. Did _everyone_ in this bloody place know that guy? In any case, so many were now crowded around the dark-haired hobbit that she'd never be able to see whatever was written. And if this Gandalf person was writing in runes or symbols or whatever they were talking about then she highly doubted she'd be able to read even half of it anyway. Instead she crossed her arms and waited for one of them to continue speaking. She saw Aragorn glance up at her and nudge Frodo gently to start reading aloud. Feeling that he'd soon be outnumbered if he didn't, he obliged.

"Dear Frodo," Frodo began, "Bad news has reached me here."

He paused in some alarm, and his eyes flicked up to the top of the letter. "It's dated midyears day."

"Then it is very late in coming," said Strider grimly, and encouraged him to read on.

Sakura put her 'perfect' memory to use – she listened carefully; each word was filed away neatly into her brain, ready to be pulled out later at a moments notice; should it be necessary. She listened with a deepening frown as the letter went on to warn the hobbit to leave quickly, not to use 'It' and not to travel by night. This 'wizard' wrote like he was in some danger, or about to be, though he said he would follow them. Some things she knew already – the letter told Baggins to make for Rivendell, a destination which Aragorn had already made clear to her – and others caused her to raise her eyebrows – such as when the letter described 'Strider' in detail and told the hobbits to trust in him, that he was a friend and knew their business. She might almost have thought it a clever ruse on the ranger's part, if she hadn't gotten to know the man somewhat well in the time she'd spent with him. He was too honourable for such a trick, Sakura felt, and in any case she'd seen his handwriting in his little hand-written plant journal. His writing was too neat and carefully scripted to match this untidy spider-scratch. Not to mention Butterbur was much entirely suspicious of him.

The letter concluded with a strange little verse, and the ninja's eyebrows slowly disappeared into her hair. Whoever put poetry in serious letters like that? She felt incredulous. Sakura began to feel a little suspicious about the level of sanity of this 'wizard'. Wasting time and words like that could get you killed. And what was the point in talking in circles to someone you were trying to help? Confusion didn't help anyone, she thought, least of all lost Hobbits and grim Rangers.

"All that is gold does not glitter," Frodo read in a clear voice.

"Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost."

The hobbit was obviously practiced at reciting poetry. His voice seemed to pitch it perfectly, but it was not the hobbit that caught Sakura's eye. There was a distinct glint of recognition in Aragorn's face that told her that he knew this poem, or knew of it. She was suddenly stricken with the idea that whoever this Gandalf was, he'd intended that verse for Aragorn, and not for Frodo at all. And that made him cleverer, or more cunning, than she'd given him credit for. It occurred to her that she had failed to 'read underneath the underneath' as Kakashi liked to say. He'd be disappointed in her, her mind told her rather shamefully, and she straitened; paying careful attention to the words.

Frodo continued, absorbed in his letter:

"From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be King."

"Why, what on earth does that mean?" cried Pippin. "It's uplifting and pretty to be sure, all talk of Kings and renewal and light springing forth and such, but what good does it do us?"

Sakura wondered that herself.

"Gandalf wouldn't have written it if it wasn't important," said Frodo a tad defensively.

"So you don't know either then?" the sandy haired hobbit cut in with a cheeky grin, earning a deep scowl from Frodo.

"There's another postscript," Strider interrupted softly. Sakura noticed that Butterbur and Nob seemed to be edging closer – they were leaning towards the hobbits in a manner so far from subtle that Sakura was surprised they hadn't simply fallen over sideways yet. She also wondered why she hadn't noticed earlier and gave herself a mental kick. That was twice she'd slipped up – even if nobody else was aware of it. She was getting too easily distracted. She had to remember that this was a mission.

Sakura carefully shifted her position, allowing the floorboard to creak just loudly enough for the Innkeeper and his assistant to freeze where they were and snap their attention toward her. She gave them a smile; knowing full well that in the shadow of her hood it would look more sinister than she could ever make it otherwise. It was, she acknowledged to herself, a trick pretty much stolen off Aragorn. She liked to think he found it amusing.

He did; not that she noticed his quickly hidden smile. But they really had no time for such amusements as teasing Butterbur. He redirected the hobbits' attention to the paper and broke up the pending argument as best he could. Luckily, Frodo did little more than frowned at his smirking friend one more time; and soon he dropped his gaze back to the letter.

"If Butterbur forgets I shall roast him" he read, his smile growing again. "Well, my dear fellow, you _did_ forget," he said semi-sympathetically to the Innkeeper, who looked quite pale, and began to edge away a little.

"And you shall certainly be roasted," added Aragorn, a little spitefully, Sakura thought. Perhaps he had finally had enough of the suspicious looks and meaningful glances. It was more likely however, that his impatience stemmed from the fact that, while news from his wayward friend was welcome, time was wasting. Butterbur had wasted yet more of it by not getting this letter to the hobbit sooner. If he had, all that suspicious blustering earlier might have been avoided, and they might already be on their way.

Butterbur got the point. With record breaking quickness he and Nob had removed themselves with a hurried goodnight and a promise of a prompt breakfast, and soon the hobbits once more found themselves alone with the two Rangers.

The atmosphere in the room was a strange kind of tense; no longer suspicious, but still a little wary, and more than a little expectant. The hobbits looked at Strider, who was watching Frodo. Frodo looked on the Ranger with curiosity – any fear or hostility had more or less drained from him. It seemed to Sakura that the hobbit trusted a little too easily, especially in letters that, really, could have come from anywhere. It helped Aragorn and herself in their mission however, so she wasn't going to question it. His fat friend was inclined to be far less accommodating – his gaze was still distrustful. Of the other two, the sandy haired one looked more wary, while Pippin seemed to have regained his cheerful disposition and was rocking gently on the balls of his feet, looking expectantly between Strider and Frodo.

Catching the stout ones mistrusting glare, Sakura lowered her hood again in a mild display of goodwill, and relaxed her stance. Seeing as it didn't help much, she stifled a sigh and plonked herself down on Aragorn's bed instead. She drew up one leg and leant her elbow on it, and cradled her head in her hand, looking bored. In truth, she was entirely alert and keeping careful track of everything in the room, for all her face looked dull. It was a nifty little trick of Tsunade's that Sakura had finally caught onto. She only needed a bottle of Sake to make the look complete – alas, that particular drink seemed to be in short supply here. Nonetheless, the bigger hobbit moved his stare back to Aragorn.

She and Aragorn had almost religiously kept to their 'own' furniture during their stay in Bree, and she couldn't help a discrete glance to see his reaction. If he cared that she'd invaded his bed, though, he gave no indication of it.

The silence stretched out just a tad too long to be comfortable, when:

"Um….what now?" Pippin said. And just like that, the tension broke.

"Now," said Strider gravely, "you must decide what you are going to do." Here he looked at Frodo, and all eyes in the room followed his. Baggins shifted uncomfortably under the weighted gazes of all in the room. His large friend placed a hand one his shoulder, in a gesture that was probably supposed to be comforting. Frodo didn't acknowledge it. He appeared to be undecided.

Sakura nearly groaned out loud. She was sure people didn't take this long to make potentially life-threatening decisions in Konoha. Then again, she usually had Naruto, and it usually took him all of three seconds to have people eating out of his hand. There was just something about him that people trusted. '**He'd already have these hobbits in Rivendell by now'**, Sakura thought a little glumly. Perhaps she should start channelling her inner Naruto? Dye her hair blonde maybe?

"Perhaps we should start what?" the fat hobbit said sharply, and Sakura grimaced, realising she'd been muttering to herself. Damn but she needed to focus! Thinking of home too much was only going to affect her mission and she couldn't afford that. Not if she wanted to _get_ home anyway.

"Perhaps you should start," Sakura said smoothly, (**_Thank _you, Ibiki, what would I have done without _'Bare-faced lies, 101'_** ) "by making the most important decision."

"And what might that be?" the same hobbit rejoined, quite rudely. Sakura treated him to a raised eyebrow.

"Do you trust us?"

Frodo looked a little taken aback at her bluntness. Sam looked rather like he wanted to say 'No!' very loudly, and was holding himself back for his master's sake.

"There I believe," said Strider warily, "is the crux of the matter. My companion could not have put it more simply." He leaned back against the wall as if a great weight had settled on his shoulders.

"How can we trust people who won't tell us their real names?" asked Frodo cautiously, looking meaningfully between them.

Sakura remembered thinking the same of Aragorn not so long ago, but she wasn't about to tell him that. Instead she put on her sweetest smile and fixed her eyes on Frodo.

"How indeed? _Mr. Underhill?_"

Frodo flushed. Aragorn threw her a loaded glance which all too clearly said: 'Hypocrite'. But there was also gratitude in that glance. Aragorn was relieved to find that Sakura had been serious in her pledge to help him. She seemed to have some skill with negotiating, a sharp wit and sharper tongue. She was proving to be an asset indeed, and he felt oddly happy to know that he would not have to protect the hobbits alone. Friends in the wild were hard to come by, and he was starting to think of Sakura as a worthwhile companion indeed. Not to mention, she was remarkably blunt – it was rather refreshing – and subtle in turns, such that it was almost impossible to guess her mood from one moment to the next. Her temper could flare and snap at any moment, and yet the next she'd be gentle as a lamb. To befriend Sakura was to be constantly on ones toes, and to his surprise Aragorn found it almost, oddly, fun. Sakura was an oddity.

Sakura stared unrelentingly at the hobbit. It was almost like she was trying to bore his answer out through the back of his head. Frodo glanced from her, to Strider, and down to his letter.

"Gandalf says we can trust Strider," he said uncertainly, "And I trust Gandalf. But, he makes no mention of Stranger." Here his eyes flicked up to hers and held them. She nodded agreeably.

"That is true," she answered in her 'dammit-Sakura-be-diplomatic' voice. "I, personally, do not know Gandalf, nor he me. Strider is our mutual friend, and one whom I came to visit. I arrived in Bree-land some weeks ago, and found him here."

"And I felt that she could be of help," Aragorn interjected. "I told her of Gandalf's request of me – that I should meet him here, and if fate delayed him, in Rivendell. I know your business Mr. Baggins, and I know that my friend can help us. That is why I asked her to remain."

Sakura nodded her support of this story, and Frodo nodded hesitantly in turn.

"If you do not mind," he began formally, "I'd like some time to confer with my companions."

Strider spoke before Sakura had a chance to reply. "That is understandable. Please, feel free to leave, though I would perhaps suggest that you avoid the dining room?"

Everyone in the room grimaced a tad, remembering Frodo's rather disastrous accident. The hobbit bowed stiffly to both Sakura and Aragorn – Sakura was surprised to find such a similarity to her own country's custom – and the four left the room whispering with their heads close. Sakura directed a reproachful frown at Aragorn.

"Oh yes, just let them wander off alone again why don't you?" she said, annoyed.

"Actually I was rather hoping you could perform that…copying…technique again?" he watched her out of the corner of his eye, and Sakura's face split into a much happier half-grin, half-smirk of understanding. She hopped off the bed in short order and one flurry of hand-signs later, a second Sakura stood by her. The clone took off without instruction, slipping away out of the window. "They need to feel that they can trust us," Aragorn said quietly.

Sakura scoffed. "They've got no choice but to trust us."

They agreed to give the hobbits an hour. They didn't need to.

It had grown dark in the time that they'd spent arguing and discussing, and a scarce twenty minutes after the hobbits had left a familiar chill crept over the Inn. Sakura sat up straight, listening intently. Aragorn had stiffened at the window. Then, through the night rent a piercing noise – almost a scream – and with it came the sound of a horse neighing shrilly. Sakura blinked in surprise as her clone dismissed itself abruptly. Her breath caught as the information hit her head – the unmistakeable silhouette on the road, the cold, the frightening _lack of distance _between the eastern gate and the Inn…The sound of feet echoed down the hallway and the door was flung open. Four hobbits stood panting on the step.

"Riders!" cried Frodo, "Black Riders! They came down the Greenway by the eastern gate and passed close by the Inn. I could feel them," he ended in a whisper.

Strider stood with an alarmed expression flitting across his hard features. "Perhaps it would be best if you did not return to your rooms tonight, hobbits." He looked to Sakura with the face of a leader, and she unconsciously straightened up like a soldier at inspection. "Go to the hobbits room. Fix it as best you can to look like they are there." She didn't hesitate to comply.

Sakura debated about making four new clones, but felt she should reserve her chakra as best she could. Somehow she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd need it. Instead, she made do with pillows, and blankets rolled up under the covers, and a brown mat from in front of the hearth – which she thought rather accurately resembled Frodo Baggins' hair.

That done; Sakura locked the door from the inside and made a low-powered clone - it had just enough chakra to sustain it while it locked the window after her, and then vanished in a puff of smoke. She returned to the room to find that Aragorn had bedded down two hobbits to a bed – top and tail – and the Ranger on guard by the window. The hobbits, despite being travel-worn and shadowed by worry and suspicion in consciousness were, when asleep, actually quite angelic in appearance. Cute, almost.

But she didn't stay to watch them. Having ascertained that everything was taken care of, she didn't argue when Aragorn asked her quietly to return to the hobbits room and guard it. She found a concealed spot and settled in to wait.

The air outside chilled as the night drew on.

**To be continued…**

**For your benefit, changes (if they're not obvious) made to this chapter include:**

**NEW EDIT: I HAVE BEEN TRAVERSING SECOND HAND BOOKSHOPS AND FINALLY GOT MY OWN COPIES OF ALL THREE LOTR BOOKS (INSTEAD OF STEALING MUM'S) AND HAVE BEEN READING THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING. I'VE FALLEN IN LOVE WITH THE BOOKS MORE THAN EVER AND SO I'M CHANGING MY STORY TO BE A BIT MORE LOYAL TO THE ORIGINAL BOOK. PEOPLE WHO HAVE READ THE BOOKS WILL RECOGNISE THOSE BITS****. Of course, people will probably be rolling their eyes at me now, since I can't seem to be happy with anything I write. Oh well.**

**ENTIRELY NEW CHAPTER: NEVER BEFORE SEEN!**

**~Devi1OnUrShou1der~**


	6. Chapter Five

**When In Middle Earth: The edited, revised and face-lifted edition****:**

**When in Middle Earth, do as the Middle-Earthlings do. ****Sakura finds herself in the midst of Middle Earth, immersed in a war she has no part in, saving a world and people she doesn't know, and why? Because Naruto would be disappointed in her if she ever got back and told him she hadn't...**

_**Chapter Five:**_

_**In which Sakura learns that Hobbits are Not Cute**_

**Disclaimer: **

**The Lord of The Rings, it's associated characters and components are copyright and property of its author J. R. R. Tolkien, the actors that played them, and the director of the trilogy of films of the same name, Peter Jackson. The character Sakura and any components associated with the manga and anime 'Naruto' are property and copyright of Masashi Kishimoto**

**The story continues:**

Hobbits, Sakura now knew without a shadow of a doubt, were not cute. They were whiny, tiresome and downright irritating. Sakura was moodily coming to the conclusion that she didn't actually like Hobbits at all. Those piping little voices grated across her every nerve, and was she ever a bundle of nerves _this_ morning.

First off, she and Aragorn had stayed up all night. Their little charges had been far from alone when they had arrived in Bree, and not long after barricading them into the room, Strider had sent Sakura off to guard the hobbits room. She had seen the Black Riders herself.

_**There were five of them, at the least, each cloaked in those shadow-black cloaks and glinting black armour, and each astride a great black horse. The horses themselves looked as flesh-and-blood as she was, foaming at the mouth with the effort their relentless riders pushed them through. But the riders themselves? She'd known from the start that they were inhuman creatures, but it had never been as clear as it had been that night, as they melded out of the shadows and entered what she recognised as the hobbits rooms, like a whisper. Sakura had followed. Like a spider, she scuttled across the roof, masking her chakra lest somehow these formidable beings could somehow sniff it out. And, poised upside down over the window, and peering through a crack in the glass, she saw them raise their blades like a prayer, and bring them slamming down into the mattresses. The shriek that they emitted when they realised that the beds were empty – it was the most bone-chilling thing Sakura had ever heard. It pierced right through to her gut, clenched it tight, and took hold of her legs for good measure. She was away and across the rooftops like a bullet before her ears had even stopped ringing.**_

Thankfully, her training had kicked in halfway across the courtyard, and Sakura had abruptly changed her course. She went for a good long jog around the village and sent off two clones in opposite directions before she'd felt safe enough to sneak back to the room she shared with Aragorn. The last thing she wanted was to lead those _things_ in the right direction. It didn't stop her clenching her teeth every time she heard hooves outside. The hobbits, bless their little hairy feet, were fast asleep and perfectly oblivious, but she and Aragorn had barely slept throughout the night, each with weapons in hands and eyes on the exits.

They'd left at dawn, with only a hurried breakfast to still the complaints of the Halflings. They'd not stopped complaining since. Their feet hurt. They were hungry. They were cold. Rangers were not to be trusted with Mr. Frodo's safety and how did they know they weren't leading them into a trap? That one was the fat hobbit. Aragorn handled their constant complaining far better than she did – she was using all her restraint not to turn around and smack one of them. Especially the fat one. _His _mutterings were like a constant stream of displeasure directed at her head, and she bore it only by forcibly reminding herself that it was just his loyalty and concern for Frodo that was talking. She tried very _very_ hard to keep remembering that. Thankfully nobody had yet noticed that her footsteps were leaving deepening dents in the frost-bitten ground.

Which brought her to another point, _yes _it was cold. But they were wearing considerably more clothing than her, and were thus warmer, and therefore had no right to complain. At least _their _feet had more hair on than a sheep, even if they didn't have boots with the bloody toes chopped off. Her toes were freezing!

'**Stupid idiot who designed ninja sandals…should be hung' **she thought, on the verge of breaking out into mutters herself. Mornings in Middle Earth, Sakura had decided, were right up there with the Hobbits on the list of things she didn't like. She scowled as she hugged her cloak close. Because, of-bloody-course, the one time she'd forgotten to pack her pink arm warmers was the one time she needed them. And her little elbow guards were hardly warming material. Her gloves had long since become a permanent fixture on her hands, and she'd made use of her oldest roll of bandages to wrap her forearms. It kept the chill off a little more, but it was hardly the same as her woolly arm warmers. There was a slightly wistful expression on her face as she thought of those. Maybe now was the time to consider trading in her little red shirts for the standard _long sleeved _chuunin uniform.

And speaking of which, so what if her clothes were odd? So what if she was a girl? Quite apart from the complaining, it was the constant stares that were really beginning to irritate her. Mistrustful stares from the fat hobbit, anxious stares from the dark-haired 'Frodo', cautious stares from the sandy-haired hobbit and oddly awed stares from the little 'Pippin'. Just because she was a girl did not give them the right to stare at her! She ignored the fact that pink-haired girls who threatened people with knives were probably not a common occurrence here. She had not stayed awake all night with Aragorn, watching over these ungrateful Hobbits, to be stared at! So, not only was she cold and hungry, but tired and irritated beyond all hell. She really didn't know how Aragorn could stand it.

And today was only the first day on their journey to Rivendell - a journey which, by Aragorn's estimate, would take at least eighteen days. _Eighteen. _Almost three weeks. On foot; through barren wasteland and midge-infested marshes; and pursued by the creepiest creatures she'd ever had the misfortune to run into.

Middle Earth, she thought, certainly _wasn't_ shaping up to be her favourite place in the world.

_**~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~**_

Lunch was bread and cheese, procured from the Innkeeper's pantry and produced with little aplomb from the depths of Striders pack. It was filled out with what was left of the Hobbits' own travelling rations – some dried meat and mushrooms - which the fat hobbit shared with his kin, but expressly failed to offer 'Strider' and 'Stranger'. Sakura rolled her eyes without discretion, and wandered off into the underbrush. A few seconds, a muffled thump, and she returned with an entire branch in her hand, from which hung several ripe, juicy apples. She smiled sweetly at the hobbits, pulled off six, and began gently placing the rest into her bag. Then, she gave three to Aragorn, and began munching happily on the three in her lap, with many exaggerated noises of enjoyment. She thought she heard Aragorn chuckle, but the crunch of perfectly ripe apples was too overshadowing to be sure.

She continued to eat her apple all the way into the afternoon, chewing it right down to the core and neatly spitting out the seeds afterward. And without further ado…she started on the second one with apparently as much enjoyment as the first. It didn't escape her notice that the short hobbit – Pippin – was watching the apple with an almost disturbing amount of longing in his eyes. The quiet grumble of his stomach seconded, thirded and carried that notion. He smiled embarrassedly when she caught him looking.

"You, ah, you wouldn't consider sharing one of those, would you Miss Stranger?" he asked in an innocent, hopeful kind of tone. She assessed his face shrewdly, and Pippin shifted a little uncomfortably, before she chomped down _hard_ on the fruit.

CHOMP. "No."

His face fell, as her face darkened. "You talk too much," she added, in the sickeningly sweet way that people only use when they are trying to hold onto their rapidly fraying temper. Her eyes flashed under her hood, and Pippin was abruptly reminded that this girl was carrying weapons and knew how to use them. And she was definitely cross.

"You," Sakura continued meanwhile, pointing to Frodo with her apple, "on the other hand, are twitchier than a bloody rabbit and _you_" she glared at Sam, "are without a doubt, the biggest pain in the ass that I have ever had the misfortune to have assault my ears. And trust me, if you knew the people _I _know, you would see what a bloody big pain that is!"

The sandy-haired hobbit actually shook a little as she turned to him, and appeared to consider him for a long moment. "You," she began thoughtfully. Merry gulped. "You don't complain so much. You I think I like. What's your name?"

"Meriadoc Brandybuck, Miss Stranger," he replied quickly, "folks call me Merry." He shut his mouth fast; as if anxious he'd talked too much.

"Have an apple Merry," said Sakura, and smirked. He fumbled as she tossed the third one to him. "Keep _him_" she jerked her thumb at Pippin, "quiet."

Feeling like she'd got one up on them, and therefore feeling better, Sakura hopped up to the rise where Strider was waiting, apparently apathetic to the whole exchange. Her smirk widened as she caught sight of Merry in her peripheral vision – he was trying to bite the apple in half, while a puppy-eyed Pippin hung off his arm. He clapped her gently on the back, but she wasn't sure whether it was a congratulatory pat or an admonishment. She settled for a mildly sheepish, and slightly strained, smile.

His shoulders were tense under his cloak, she noticed, and it was getting dark. Of course he had more important things to worry about than her silly little squabbles with the hobbits. Sakura's sheepish smile faded into real shame, and she ducked her head. Determinedly, she cycled through her memory, feeling a sudden strong drive to be useful.

"Strider," she called quietly, being sure not to use his name. "There was an outcrop of rocks back there; it could be a good place to set up camp."

He nodded distractedly, scanning the surrounding area quickly. "Can you do that technique you did before? To conceal us?"

She nodded quickly, genjutsu wasn't her specialty but she was decent at it, and although she wasn't certain it would work on the Ringwraith's that followed them, a simple genjutsu would at least provide more safety than none at all. She began forming hand-signs. Aragorn concentrated and felt the barest of brushes against his skin as the technique took hold, but the feeling was gone as soon as his concentration dropped. He was only half-sure he hadn't imagined it in the first place. Sakura seemed to be satisfied however, as she crouched atop the outcrop looking over something he couldn't see.

The genjutsu took hold well; Sakura thought with satisfaction. She could barely feel it; **'Not bad, if I do say so myself'**.

Aragorn herded the Hobbits under the outcrop, and firmly rejected a cooking fire. Sakura had to admire the way he steamrollered over their protests and simply distributed crusty rinds of bread and generously flicked out his knife – much to the alarm of the hobbits – and began slicing his remaining two apples into chunks – much to their relief. He had clearly warned them against speaking to Sakura - when she hopped down and took her place by Strider the camp was utterly silent, and their charges were determinedly looking everywhere except her person. She batted him a quick smile of gratitude.

Night stole in slowly, until the Ranger ordered the hobbits to bed. A brief argument over who should take first watch culminated in a short lecture-a-la-Sakura on the wonder that is soldier pills, along with an equally short explanation that Aragorn wouldn't be able to use them, and therefore was going to need his sleep if he expected to be of any use as a guard. His responding argument was abruptly squashed when Sakura chomped down on the aforesaid pill, with the declaration "Too late now buddy, get your ass over there with those lazy buggers and sleep." She pointedly ignored his rejoinder about "unladylike speech," and "unbecoming tempers."

Nonetheless, both Aragorn and Sakura were up well before dawn. The dew sprinkled the ground with icy little crystals, and the air was crisp like a newly pressed sheet. If possible, it was even chillier. It occurred to Sakura belatedly that the seasons here may very well be on a very different cycle to that back home. They could very well be headed into winter. The thought had her near kicking herself for not thinking of it sooner, but a quick query of Strider confirmed it. She would definitely need to find some warmer clothes.

Meanwhile, the cold morning brought little change in the hobbits, who did not appreciate being woken at sunrise and walked through the frost at a "leg-breaking pace" on a mediocre breakfast of mushrooms and bread. Sakura had expected them to want a break at some point, but she didn't expect them to start hunkering down and getting out the pots and pans. Apparently neither had Aragorn.

"What are you doing?" He asked incredulously. It was Pippin who replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Breakfast."

"You've already had it."

Pippin gave him what could only be described as "a look".

"We had one yes, but what about second breakfast?"

Aragorn just shook his head and walked away, muttering something under his breath that sounded like "_Hobbits._"

Sakura watched in amusement as Merry stood up and clapped Pippin on the shoulder. "I don't think he knows about second breakfast Pip." Pippin looked horrified.

"What about brunch? Afternoon tea? Elevenses? He knows about those doesn't he?"

"I wouldn't count on it."

The conversation was interrupted when an apple came whooshing over the treetops and clonked poor Pippin rather soundly on the head. Sakura rummaged around in her pack until she'd found the last of them, only a little bruised and still looking delightfully green and crisp. She distributed them with as much grace as she could muster, and finished her own apple rather quickly; while the group travelled much as they had the day before. Sakura found herself in a marginally more forgiving mood this morning, most likely due to a few decent hours of sleep. She almost regretted her harsh thoughts from the previous day. But only 'almost'. Frodo, for his part, was mostly silent – Sakura counted her blessings for that – but Merry and Pippin kept up a steady stream of (thankfully quiet) chatter around mouthfuls of apple. She was somewhat glad that those two seemed to have relaxed somewhat in the presence of herself and Aragorn (and food), but Sam was clearly indisposed to follow suit.

"How do we know we can trust this 'Strider'?" She heard him mutter grumpily, obviously intending the words for his fellow hobbits' ears only, and she was immediately flooded with outrage for her friend. Did that fat, ungrateful hobbit not notice anything? How Aragorn was risking his own safety by protecting them? How he'd barely slept the past two nights, watching out for them? So absorbed in her thoughts, Sakura didn't hear Frodo's reply, and it was only when she felt Aragorn's concerned hand on her shoulder that she realised she'd been glaring at Sam. He'd gone rather pale, actually, so she must have looked fierce. She hadn't even noticed that her hood had blown off and exposed the full force of her death-glare on the hobbit. She wasn't sure if it was inherent loyalty or just the lack of food and sleep talking, but Sakura was _angry_.

"You're a lot safer with him than with me, Hobbit." She snarled, and even Aragorn was taken aback by the venom in her voice.

Once again, Aragorn found himself at something of a loss as to what to do. He had no experience in this field, and Sakura was such a strange girl that he found himself doubting that it would help even if he did. He patted her shoulder awkwardly, attempting to mediate, or at least dispel the building tension. It would not do for a fight to break out. "Sakura, perhaps you could scout ahead?" He tried, keeping his voice neutral and as placating as possible, still unsure as to the source of her ire. She nodded stiffly, and marched into the trees. He noticed with some consternation that she was making deeper and deeper depressions in the ground as she stomped away.

He watched after her until she'd disappeared completely. Finally, Strider turned to Sam, his expression blank. "What was that about?"

Sam scowled darkly. "Damned if I know. All I know is she's been naught but unpleasant since we met, always glaring and growling at a fella'. She don't like me, an' I don't like 'er. Don't trust 'er either." Sam stopped and glared at Aragorn. "Or you for that matter. Ow'd we know if you're a friend o' Gandalf?"

Pippin helpfully pointed out that he'd already said that, just now, to Frodo- and almost immediately Merry not-so-subtly elbowed him in the gut - the universal sign for _"Now would be a really good time to shut up"_. Aragorn however, looked unperturbed, and merely raised his eyebrows. Unknowingly he repeated Frodo's earlier sentiments: "What choice do you have?"

With apparently no more to be said on the matter, and four speechless hobbits on his hands, he turned and silently led them onward. But his mind was far from silent. Why had Sakura reacted so? Could it really be that Sakura had reacted in such a way, simply because Sam had questioned his honesty? In defence of him? Aragorn found himself feeling rather flattered.

He was broken out of his ponderings by his scout's deft landing in front of him. Surprised, he spared a moment to inspect the tree she had apparently just jumped down from, but before he had time to wonder about it she began reporting.

"I can see no signs that we are being followed. Of course that doesn't mean we aren't. There is small village just under a mile from here." She finished, pointing in the appropriate direction.

Aragorn merely nodded, inwardly pleased that they had made such good time. He intended to pick up some more food and supplies from there if they could, and possibly a pony or mule – he suspected the hobbits would travel better with a beast to carry their packs for them, and perhaps happier hobbits meant a happier Sakura. For her part, she kept up a constant watch for the rest of the journey to the village. She appeared sometimes from the rear, and sometimes from ahead, and Aragorn found himself wondering whether she was using that strange technique to copy herself again, or if she was just that fast.

The party continued to travel at a brisk pace. Apparently a volatile and angry Sakura was a good motivator. He offered no explanation or reassurance to the hobbits, and they were content to mutter among themselves, until the sun reached its highest point in the sky and a cluster of houses became visible through the brush. The village was made up of wooden buildings similar to those found in Bree, though the roads were only packed dirt instead of cobbles. Aragorn whispered to Sakura that it was named Archet, and she sifted through her memory for the name, vaguely recalling it as a dot on the map, even more insignificant than Bree. For his part, the ranger wanted to remain there as short a time as possible, and would much have preferred to push on, but after looking over his party, he was more inclined to let them rest and recover their spirits. They found the local Inn easily and secured a room for the night with little questioning. He and Sakura worriedly mapped out a watch and as many ways they could think of to throw the Rider's off their trail, before Sakura slipped out into the woods and threw up as many genjutsu as she could. For good measure, Sakura summoned as much chakra as she could spare and with a 'poof' two clones appeared in front of her. She set them on a grid pattern scout, and headed back to the Inn with her mind plotting out tripwire traps. She might not be able to trap the road, but the door to their room was fair game and anything was better than nothing.

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The night passed almost too quietly, and for all that they were in comfortable beds none of them slept easily. Sakura raided the kitchen early and left a pile of coins on the stove in recompense, and shortly afterward another dawn saw the hobbits stumbling blearily after the Ranger, with Sakura bringing up the rear. They left the road quickly and began making their way across fields, utilising brooks wherever they came across them to mask their trail.

They travelled in single file, stooped slightly with tiredness, and mud sucking dully at their feet. Sakura grimaced at the feeling of it between her toes, and felt a pang of sympathy for the hobbits, for whom it must surely be worse. Or for three of them at least; she watched Sam (she'd finally bothered to learn his name) pick his way through the muck with a disgruntled expression on his chubby face, and smiled vindictively.

It was around this time, when insects were starting to wake up and make a nuisance of themselves, and the end of the planted fields was in sight, that a sound reached their ears. It was dull, far away, at first. But with each step they took it grew louder, clearer and soon the party rounded a cluster of wind-breaking trees and came upon a sight that none of them cared to see. The steady thwack thwack thwack that had guided their footsteps was, in fact, the sound of a large flat stick roughly striking the rump of a skinny and scraggly pony, which appeared to be grossly overloaded with large sacks of grain.

"_Move_, you thrice-damned pony," growled a stocky, bandy-legged old man.

"Can't he see that pony's overloaded?" growled Sam, "Why, no wonder the poor thing can't hardly move!"

The old man raised his stick to strike the pony again, but his hand was stopped abruptly mid-swipe.

"I should be happy to take that animal off your hands," said Strider smoothly, tightening his grip on the man's wrist meaningfully, "if it is so very badly behaved."

The eye's of the old man widened in something like surprise - and a lot like fear - before his face took on the shrewd expression of a man who saw a profit in the making.

"Twelve silver pennies and he's yours," he sneered. Sakura had picked up a basic grasp of the currency here, but being unused to horses she had no idea what one might be worth. Behind her though, she heard the hobbits quite clearly muttering about the price being three times the pony's worth, and her eyes narrowed.

"The beast is half-starved and you yourself cannot move him," Strider raised an eyebrow, "yet you insist he is worth that much?"

"I'll not give him up for less," the man sniffed imperiously, as if he had every right to demand so much for so poor an animal. Aragorn fought the urge to strike the man as the animal let out a pitiful whinny. Sakura had no such reservations – she was a healer, and she'd be damned if she watched any animal in that much discomfort. She stalked forward with more menace than her slight frame would suggest, and grabbed the old man by his collar. She jerked him roughly, so that his arm slid out of Aragorn's grasp, but the old man merely smirked as if his new captor was no more than an amusing distraction.

She quickly stripped him of that illusion.

She lifted him bodily off the ground. He paled.

"What's your name?" she inquired pleasantly, as if she was doing nothing more than asking about the weather. He kicked his bandy legs a little feebly, and muttered something under his breath.

"Didn't catch that," she said sharply.

"M'names Bill Ferny," he scowled down at her, baring his crooked teeth. "And you'll not have the beast at all if'n ye' don't put me down!"

The hobbits and Strider, meanwhile, had been rather drastically taken aback at the ease with which Sakura had lifted him. Such a thing they would have readily believed of Strider, who was tall and had rather long arms, but Stranger was barely a head taller than the hobbits and of such a light build that she almost looked like she'd fall over with a strong gust of wind. And she was a woman to boot; who, though they did not think less of her for it, were not often considered physically strong, nor quite so emotionally aggressive as men. It was frankly astounding.

It was Aragorn who decided to intervene. He'd spent enough time with Sakura to know that she had both strange strength and abilities, and a short temper. He knew that her temper was already worse for wear.

"We'll give you half that for the pony," he said in a firm tone. Ferny opened his mouth to object hotly, regardless of the fact that his feet weren't touching the ground, but Aragorn smoothly cut across him and continued, "The other half you may have in exchange for food, and a warm blanket or two if you have them."

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but nodded stiffly.

"Put him down, Sakura," Aragorn murmured close to her ear, careful that neither the hobbits nor the detestable Bill Ferny should hear it. She obliged begrudgingly.

The farmer dusted himself with a huff and a sneer. "Just where are you lot off to that you need so much food and blankets, and a beast of burden to boot?"

"Our business is our own," Frodo interjected quickly, sticking his chin out in a somewhat defiant fashion.

"Hmph," huffed Bill Ferny. Sakura began very meaningfully to crack her knuckles one by one. Aragorn maintained an aloof and deceptively pleasant outward appearance.

"The food and blankets if you please. We do not wish to tarry."

Ferny's eyes shifted from person to person, and with a grumble he shuffled off. Sakura followed him without direction, but the Ranger remained with the hobbits, and together they set to unloading the pony.

Without the calming presence of her 'fellow ranger' Sakura found herself snappish and inclined to fall back on the basic interrogatory techniques of her early training. She presented an impenetrable front, and refused to let down her guard. The barest glint of metal under her cloak let anybody who was inclined to look know that she was armed. She was sure to follow him just a tad too close to truly be comfortable, and was doubly sure to make not a single sound. So complete was her silence that he'd turned back more than once to check if she was there, only to get a fright when he found her hovering over his shoulder. Hidden under her hood, Sakura smirked. She was unnerving him.

There was a rough hessian sack hanging by the door of a fairly well-kept cottage, and this Ferny grabbed on his way inside. Sakura, mindful of the respect one should pay a household, waited semi-patiently against the door jam, observing mildly as the farmer muttered to himself and shoved items into the sack without care. She was half-certain that the loaf of bread that went in there was already stale, and that the cheese was a tad too hard and shiny looking to be in its prime. Nonetheless, she refrained from commenting as a couple of bruised apples and a surprisingly generous helping of dried meat went in there. Then again, she mused to herself, it was probably dog jerky. Her mouth quirked a little at the thought.

It was that moment that Bill Ferny turned around, and catching sight of that strange little half grin, made an abrupt show of adding another loaf and some healthy looking vegetables from the pantry. He bustled out of the room in short order, and Sakura heard him muttering and swearing as he rummaged around with something in the hall. She presumed a cupboard. When he returned two large items of cloth had been hurriedly shoved into the sack and the whole thing pressed into Sakura's hands.

He was paid without further provocation, and without further ado the troop set off again, mindful of his beady little eyes tracking their path. They made as if back toward Archet, only to double back later and return to Strider's original route.

As for the pony, Sam had dubbed him "Bill" much to Sakura's disgust. Nor did she care for his argument that 'the name ought to have _one _good creature attached to it." Sam was adamant however, and the name soon stuck. They gave him as much as they had the heart to have him carry, and were careful not to weigh him down too much. But Bill was a sturdy pony, and much more inclined to follow the direction of a carrot or apple than that of a stick. Sakura checked him every so often with a minor medical jutsu, but to all ends he was healthy, if a little undernourished, and was as happy as Larry once she'd healed over the welds on his bottom.

Sakura didn't bother to mention her little healing talent to the others, figuring that her little display earlier was probably quite enough for them to take in, in one go, and so it merely seemed that she was fond of petting the pony. Discreetly though, she was trying to remember and initiate the metabolism aiding jutsu that Tsunade had taught her once – on the fly – because it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Considering that at the time she had had her hands full with one of Chouji's young cousins, who'd managed to get into those little traffic-light pills of his, it probably _was _a good idea. But that didn't necessarily make the jutsu applicable to ponies. She did her best however, tweaked it as much as she dared, and by the third day she was almost certain she could see results. For his part, Sam was as much inclined to share his dinner with the pony as he was to share it with Frodo, and between the frequent titbits, and the plentiful grass and shrubs throughout the wilds, and Sakura's aid, Bill began to put on weight at a steady rate.

Sakura was immensely pleased with this. She was even more pleased to find that with Bill carrying most of the weight, the hobbits were less disposed to dawdle and complain. The relative quiet was much to her relief, and the relief of her temper, and by the time that they neared their destination – a great hill topped with a ruin – she had even simmered down enough to hold a semi-civil conversation with Merry (who was the least annoying) and Pippin (who wouldn't have been deterred anyway). It seemed that nothing however, could make her lessen her ill-opinion of Samwise Gamgee, who'd secured himself rather firmly in her bad books. Likewise, Sam was disgusted to find that Bill (_his_ Bill) was as much disposed to favour Sakura as he was to favour him. Sullen and Icy Glares were frequently exchanged, much to the discomfort of Frodo and Merry, though Pippin remained cheerfully oblivious.

The relief to both the two hobbits and the Ranger, when they finally reached the base of the hill, was dampened only by the looming prospect of the climb. Strider's long legs scaled the rocky hillside easily, and though he paused frequently to help one or other of the struggling hobbits, his progress was quick. Only the ever stubborn Sam refused help, instead hovering as near behind Frodo as was safe and offering him a sturdy elbow whenever the dark-haired hobbit needed it. There was a rough sort of track that wound around the hill; little more than a line of dirt in the grass or the slightest hint of stone peeking between the roots of thorny bushes, which might have once been a true path. They followed it as best they could, for while climbing the hillside – which in some places was near vertical, thanks to rock falls and the beating of the wind – would be faster in theory, the shortness of their charges legs, and their reluctance to do so, surely made the track the lesser of two evils. Either way, the going was steep, and poor Bill had to stop on more than one occasion. He was, after all, not a young pony.

'Stranger' found the entire thing more or less a pointless exercise, and a waste of time to boot. She knew genins that could scale this entire hill, ruined tower and all, vertically in little more than five minutes. But hobbits were not ninja, and Sakura was forced to dawdle impatiently behind them as they wound their way steadily upwards. By the time they reached the top, Sakura was just about ready to drop to the ground and start kissing the stonework. She didn't know _how_ Aragorn could possibly be so patient.

She didn't get a chance to ask him though, because the bugger disappeared not long after herding the hobbits into a disused guard room and leaving her to deal with the setting up of camp and the bedding down of whiny halflings.

'**Git.' **She thought unhappily.

**To be continued…**

**For your benefit, changes (if they're not obvious) made to this chapter include:**

**Not all that much I guess…How about a game of spot the difference?**

**NEW EDIT: I HAVE BEEN TRAVERSING SECOND HAND BOOKSHOPS AND FINALLY GOT MY OWN COPIES OF ALL THREE LOTR BOOKS (INSTEAD OF STEALING MUM'S) AND HAVE BEEN READING THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING. I'VE FALLEN IN LOVE WITH THE BOOKS MORE THAN EVER AND SO I'M CHANGING MY STORY TO BE A BIT MORE LOYAL TO THE ORIGINAL BOOK. PEOPLE WHO HAVE READ THE BOOKS WILL RECOGNISE THOSE BITS****. Of course, people will probably be rolling their eyes at me now, since I can't seem to be happy with anything I write. Oh well.**

**SEE IF YOU CAN SPOT THE NEW CHANGES. (Hint: I've changed things in other chapters too….yeah I know, I'm a pain eh? Sorry)**

**~Devi1OnUrShou1der~**


	7. Chapter Six

**When In Middle Earth: The edited, revised and face-lifted edition****:**

**When in Middle Earth, do as the Middle-Earthlings do. ****Sakura finds herself in the midst of Middle Earth, immersed in a war she has no part in, saving a world and people she doesn't know, and why? Because Naruto would be disappointed in her if she ever got back and told him she hadn't...**

_**Chapter Six:**_

_**In which Sakura learns a little about history, and Hobbits learn a lot about prudence**_

**Disclaimer: **

**The Lord of The Rings, it's associated characters and components are copyright and property of its author J. R. R. Tolkien, the actors that played them, and the director of the trilogy of films of the same name, Peter Jackson. The character Sakura and any components associated with the manga and anime 'Naruto' are property and copyright of Masashi Kishimoto**

**The story continues:**

"This once was once a watch-tower," Aragorn whispered to Sakura, as she dropped down beside him and curled her legs up. Sakura looked over the place with a curious eye, taking in the molten orange that stole over the stonework as the sun set, the weatherworn and chipped walls, and the glints of green as weeds and grasses crept up through cracks in the floor. She could see for miles across the lands in front of her, all the way to the horizon, where the sun was dipping low and turning the clouds pink above it. It wasn't hard to see why someone had built a tower here. Aragorn's gaze had gone a little misty, as if he was lost in some deep thought, or memory. She wondered what she ought to say, but it seemed all he needed was a willing ear, because he continued without any encouragement.

"It was a watchtower of Arnor," he said, his voice still low, and his gaze drifted sideways, as if he expected some reaction from her. Sakura's brows drew down as she sifted through the memory, trying to remember why the name was familiar to her.

"Arnor…was your kingdom?" she hazarded, recalling a conversation about Rangers. "Your people's kingdom; a long time ago."

He seemed pleased that she'd remembered, and nodded. "It fell before my time," he murmured quietly, "but the stories shaped my childhood. Would you like to hear them?"

She nodded, but couldn't help but wonder if he'd simply have continued anyway. Clearly, being here had a strange effect on his mood. He seemed far away. But her curiosity was enough to keep her listening as he whispered to her about the rise and fall of his people, and the legends they bore, and slowly the sun drew toward the horizon until the bright circle was gone from the sky completely, and only a hint of orange remained along the horizon. He was quite the story-teller, and she found herself lost for a long moment, suspended in the tales he wove. She could almost see the walls rebuilt and full, the men standing guard, the soldiers huddled around the fire pit as the wind blew over the hill; and below, a patchwork of well-tilled fields and stout farmhouses, stretching away toward a city that no longer stood.

And then her imagination provided all too vividly the vision of a battle, a war, and the loss that followed. She imagined families throwing on cloaks and gathering their little ones, and fleeing into the wild places. She imagined those little ones growing old, haunted by the story of where they came from and the failure of those who led them to war; and she imagined them roaming the wilds which had become their home, the only friendly place left to them. She felt oddly…bereft…when Aragorn stopped talking; and a strange sort of reverence for this old tower, which had rebelled against the passage of time and stood defiantly atop the hill, and was so full of memory. There were not many old buildings in ninja villages – the Great Wars had seen to it that the villages were almost entirely rebuilt every few decades, not to mention the inevitable damage to property that came with having some hundreds of ninja in one place.

They sat in silence until the last dregs of orange faded from the sky, and Aragorn broke from his thoughts long enough to order her to bed down with the hobbits. It was second nature for Sakura to argue, but her eyelids were already drooping and her argument was half-hearted at best. So, she gave the stonework a friendly pat and she left Aragorn to his thoughts. As she rounded the corner, she was almost certain that she could hear him start to sing, quietly, in a language she didn't know, and paused for just a moment. Though she could hardly hear it, it sounded a beautiful language, and she wondered what beautiful people must speak like that. But her brain was running on willpower alone, and she couldn't deny that a few hours of sleep would be welcome. She barely managed to roll out her sleeping mat in the inner chamber of the watchtower, what used to be the guards' quarters, before her eyes slipped close and she fell into a light, dreamless sleep.

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Sakura couldn't have been asleep more than about three hours before she was woken, not by Aragorn, but by the flickering of light and warmth on her eyelids. '**Wait…' **her brain kicked into gear with a jolt, **'What?'. **Her eyes snapped open, only to find that those idiotic Hobbits had lit a fire and were, of all things, cooking bacon in the middle of the night.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She screeched, and grabbed her blanket, intent on smothering it. Her shout woke Frodo with a jolt, the only hobbit to have still been asleep. He took one look at the scene and leapt to his feet, desperately trying to stamp out the fire with his bare soles.

"Put it out you fools, put it out!" he shouted fearfully, even as they tried to reassure him that they'd made enough for him too. He yelped as he stamped down and the embers clung to his foot, burning him with an audible sizzle. Sakura shoved her blanket at him and took off toward the upper levels of the tower. She spared little more than a second to be thankful that one of them had some at least some sense, if no notion of how to smother a fire quickly. This tower might be able to see for miles but that only meant it could be _seen _for miles too. And if anyone had seen a fire up here in the dead of night…she shuddered to think. Did the idiots not realise how bright and how far firelight could travel in the dark? It was even cloudy tonight! There was no moon to be seen; it was practically the perfect night for cover and the bloody idiots had blown it! She pushed the thought aside with gritted teeth, and gave up on the stairs. She took to scaling the ancient pillars instead.

"Aragorn," she hissed quietly, looking about wildly for him. Not only had they compromised their own safety but the stupid hobbits had gone and ruined her night-vision too, and it had yet to return. She was having difficulty discerning one shadow from another. '**What I wouldn't give right now to be a Hyuuga' **Sakura thought sourly as she searched for something human-shaped in the dark. His sudden appearance between the pillars startled her, and she had a kunai in her hand and ready to throw, before she realised who it was. With a relieved breath out, she hurried over to him, only to freeze before she could even get a word out, as the shrill cry of the Ringwraiths rang out through the night. Her breath caught in her throat and her gut clenched, remembering the last time she'd heard that inhuman wail. Sakura and Aragorn exchanged one horrified glance, and simultaneously dashed off in different directions. Aragorn cursed as he fumbled for his sword and bounded down the track as fast as his legs would allow. Sakura simply bypassed the path altogether, jumping directly from the top of the tower. Her landing made small cracks in the stonework, but she spared no thought to it as she bounced from pillar to pillar, desperately trying to reach the hobbits.

By the time she found them, there was no doubt that they knew exactly what they'd done. She found the four of them stood back to back, fumbling with swords they didn't know how to use and sending terrified glances in every direction. The very air felt like ice. She could see the hobbits shaking, and they pressed together. Poor Pippin looked as scared of his own sword as he did of the Ringwraith's, and Frodo had gone paler than a white sheet.

She vaulted over a headless statue and hopped down onto a half-broken pillar. She landed with a dull thud, only to turn her head with fearful slowness as the sound of crunching footsteps reached her ears. Advancing through the gap between two opposite pillars, was a Ringwraith. A Nazgul with black armour under its equally black cloak and an evil-looking blade already drawn, held in front of it. The hobbits stood amid the circle of pillars, between her and wraith, and she thanked her lucky stars that they'd had enough sense to seek higher ground; to get out of the enclosed and inescapable guard-room. The Nazgul was joined by four others, before she could even blink and they advanced with a terrifying deliberateness, enclosing the Hobbits in a tight semi-circle. The air seemed to freeze with their presence. With each step they took, the Nazgul lowered their swords, levelling them directly at the Hobbits' faces in clear threat. Sakura found herself frozen atop the pillar; even as the hobbits retreated backwards she could not take a step. They were truly terrifying.

It was Sam's cry that snapped her out of it. "Back you Devil's!" He yelled, swiping wildly with his sword, only to be thrown bodily against a wall with a sickening crunch.

Sakura wasted no more time. Luckily she had neglected to take off her gloves, and Sakura simply launched herself off the pillar she crouched on, aiming for the nearest Nazgul with a feral snarl on her face. She drew back a hand already glowing green with the amount of chakra she was currently charging through her knuckles, landed on one foot, slid the other out to duck underneath the blade it swung at her and, drawing power from her knees, straightened in one fluid movement and delivered a staggering blow to the creature's chest plate. The wraith was slammed backwards into another pillar with a sizable dent in its black armour. Good, she could hit them. It crumpled to its knees, and Sakura moved onto the next one without a backward glance.

In her peripheral vision, she could see that Aragorn had come swinging around the corner, flaming torch and sword in hand, but she was already exchanging blows with another Ringwraith; blocking its sword with kunai that she'd only just managed to pull out in time. It gave an almighty swing - the blade whistling through the air and slicing through the tips of her hair as she ducked - and Sakura felt a searing pain reverberate through her skull as it brought the handle down sharply on her head instead. Black spots clouded her vision and she staggered back, flicking one of the kunai at its head so as to have a free hand to heal herself with. She was surprised and satisfied when the wraith reared back with a screech, clawing at the knife stuck in its seemingly empty hood. She took the opportunity to deliver a kick that sent it flying off the tower.

With one hand, she kept her kunai raised, while she used her teeth to pull her glove off the other and brought it quickly to her head. A basic healing jutsu was enough to take the pain away, but she resolved to take a closer look when she had the time. She didn't think there was any serious damage, but head injuries could be brutal, and the last thing she needed was one of those. She shook her head futilely, trying to clear her vision, only to catch sight of another Nazgul out of the corner of her eye, which had Merry and Pippin cornered. She could see Merry and Pippin stabbing wildly at it and took a flying dive toward them but she was struck bodily as the Nazgul swung its sword to intercept her in mid-air, before her tackle could land. She hit the ground hard, grunting with pain, and lifted a glowing ungloved hand to her bleeding side.

"Stranger!" Pippin yelled in fear, and her eyes widened. With a burst of chakra and muscle power, she hopped onto her feet again, standing protectively in front of the two Hobbits. She growled audibly as she got a good look at the Wraith they faced – it had a fist-shaped dent in its chest-plate. Apparently that one wasn't as 'down and out' as she'd thought. Resolutely, Sakura pushed the hobbits behind her with her empty hand, realising unhappily that she'd dropped both glove and kunai in her fall. She made sure to keep her eyes locked on the creature's hood – the closest it had to a face and she was vindictively pleased to see it hesitate slightly in its advance when she stood before it – to all intents and purposes – utterly unharmed. She didn't take her eyes off it as it began to circle them, and reached into her weapons pouch under her cloak; the hood moved to follow the movement of the material.

Aragorn met his foe blow for blow, blocking first with his sword, then with the torch, swiping at the wraith with one and the other, and driving it backwards away from the Hobbits. He'd seen Sakura _kick_ one off the tower entirely, and from the corner of his eye he saw her step in to protect Merry and Pippin, facing the advancing Ringwraith head on. He had no time to worry about her though – another had interfered with his own fight and he found himself in the unenviable position of having to fight off two enemies at once. He spun on his heel on instinct, glad of his dual-wielding, and met one, then the other, with blade and fire. He swiped at them with his torch, the flames apparently having some effect for it drove them back. He deftly ducked a blow, spinning quickly and lighting fire to the Nazgul's cloak, before completing his spin to meet a second with his sword. He ducked and dodged as best he could, but it was not enough to stop the edge of the sword (he neither knew nor cared which one) from slicing across his cheek bone dangerously close to his eye. He hissed in pain, and automatically tried to bring his hand up to wipe the blood away, only to find that the knee-jerk reaction was just in time to block another blow. The Ringwraith's sword bit into the handle of the torch just a hairsbreadth away from his fingers, and Aragorn swiped viciously at it with the flame in response.

Her cloak flew dramatically around her shoulders as Sakura flung it back, revealing hands bristling with kunai, in a scene rather reminiscent of her mission to snow-country so long ago. Her face was a picture of fury, and within seconds the knives were flying through the air, their tags streaming behind them. Merry and Pippin watched in shock as the wraith stumbled; the weapons embedding themselves in its arms and legs. **"Kai,"** Sakura hissed, and with a quickly formed hand-sign the tags ignited; blowing the wraith backwards with the force of the explosion and setting its billowing robes alight.

Sakura was on it like a predator; it staggered backwards, wailing in that shrill inhuman voice, and she followed, ruthlessly hammering its breastplate with punches and kicks, bruising the knuckles of her bare hand, and blistering them and singing her glove with the heat as the flames heated its metal armour. The burning wraith had no opportunity to flee; Sakura was relentless. It's arms flailed wildly at its knees met the low, crumbled wall of the towed; the flames making a sparkler-circle effect in the air as it tried desperately to right itself. But the Kunoichi was having none of that. She swung her leg up and, charged with chakra, brought it home with one decisive motion. The Ringwraith tumbled from the tower with a heart-stopping screech.

But the sound was soon replaced with a very human shriek of pain. In the confusion of the battle, nobody had noticed Frodo's disappearance, or the fact that one of the five Ringwraiths was unaccounted for. Her blood ran cold as she turned to see Sam knocked unconscious against a wall, and Frodo gone completely. But she could still hear a wrenching cry of pain, and Merry and Pippin were still crouched shuddering where she'd left them. She ran in the direction of the cry.

Weathertop was a mess of noise; Aragorn heard the screech of other Nazgul as they fell or fled, and knew Sakura was doing her work. He swiped viciously at the Nazgul in front of him, setting it alight with a well-placed strike of his torch. It dropped to the floor, rolling and flapping about to no avail. The resounding wail that followed rang in his ears, but went ignored, as he spun to face his second foe. Too late, he caught sight of the blade headed for him and jerked away, bringing his arm up. But he misjudged the block and emitted a sharp cry of agony as the blade sliced into his shoulder. Unwittingly, his fingers jerked open and the torch dropped to the floor. Aragorn staggered backwards, trying to get his footing back and gritting his teeth against the pain in his arm. He wanted desperately to clamp his hand over the wound, but he daren't let go of his sword for even a moment and the ringwraith was advancing. He could feel blood soaking his sleeve and sticking the material to his skin in a clammy uncomfortable mess. He knew it was deep – he could feel the muscle protesting as he moved, and it _hurt_. He clenched his jaw and concentrated on preventing the Ringwraith from getting in any more hits.

At first, amidst the chaos of the fight, he almost thought that the drawn-out, pained cry was himself. But Aragorn was clenching his teeth so hard that his jaw ached, and it was with a sinking sense of horror that he recognised the voice as Frodo. Adrenaline surged through his veins, fuelled by anger and a sense of duty so deep no sword could reach it. His sword came up ruthlessly and struck once, twice, he swung low and jerked the blade up under the breastplate of the Nazgul. The sword stuck, and the creature reared backwards with an agonised scream. The Ranger followed, looking as wild as his home with blood streaked across his face and arm, his hair tangled and his eyes aflame. He scooped up his torch, pivoted to relight it on the flaming, flailing Ringwraith, and jabbed it harshly into the neck region of the cloaked Rider. It went up like a spark in a dry forest. He caught his sword by the handle and jerked it out, spinning away and running for Frodo without looking back.

The last Ringwraith was crouched over a patch of thin air, with its blade embedded into seemingly nothing. Then, before her very eyes, Frodo abruptly reappeared, crying out in agony as the Ringwraith dug its blade into his shoulder. He was pale, sweating, and the screams that were coming from his mouth were enough to wake the dead. It certainly woke Sam, who'd been groggily returning to the land of the living, only to be jerked into unwelcome consciousness as the sound of that cry.

Sakura was flooded with a blazing anger, and without a thought she wrenched the nearest pillar into her arms. **"Shannaro!" **she bellowed, swinging the stone pillar like a bat, intending to swipe the filthy creature away.

"Mr Frodo!" Sam wailed in despair.

The Ringwraith's head whipped around and it dived to the ground. Its weapon skittered across the stones as it lost its grip. Sakura's pillar whipped over its head so fast that the cloak rippled, and the momentum made her grip on the stone slip. She tried desperately to cling to the slippery surface, with her blistered hand and sooty glove, but to no avail. The pillar crashed away down the hill, taking out any wraiths which may have been on the way back up, but not the one they needed to take out. It was then that Aragorn came swinging around the corner and took advantage of the Ringwraith's distraction to throw his flaming torch with an accuracy that Sakura envied. The torch spun through the air, embedding the flaming wood in the wraiths hood and setting the foul thing aflame. There was the slightest of 'whoomph' noises as it went up, and the nasty smell of singing wool.

The Ringwraith staggered backwards until its knees met the wall, and let out a final piercing cry as it toppled over the edge and onto the rocky hillside far below. Hesitantly, Sakura approached the ledge, peering into the darkness below. But she could see nothing, and soon Frodo's agonised cries brought her mind slamming back to the present.

She collapsed to her knees at Frodo's side, automatically drawing healing chakra into her hands. She tore off her remaining glove with her teeth and clapped both hands over the wound, pouring her chakra into the wound the way she had a thousand times before. But it was useless.

"There is something poisoning his system, something unnatural. I can't draw it out!" Sakura exclaimed in a mixture of horror and anger. She couldn't use just any healing jutsu to fix this – she'd need to use her own extraction technique, one which would be impossible given where they were, and too time consuming to complete under pursuit. The situation seemed hopeless.

"Strider!" Sam cried in anguish "Help him Strider!"

Aragorn batted her away from the hobbit and knelt to retrieve the weapon that had stabbed him. Sakura didn't fail to notice the blood staining his sleeve and caked on his cheek. She could tell the arm wound was deep – he was favouring it considerably – even going so far as to drop his sword in order to pick up the Ringwraith's dagger in the same hand.

"He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade." No sooner had he said it than the weapon crumbled in his hands. Sakura nodded distractedly, if it was a special blade it explained why her own wound and Aragorn's wounds, hadn't produced the same effects. She guessed that the blade was lined with some form of poison, although, she glanced at the dark, metallic dust that was all that was left of the dagger, it was just as possible that whatever the heck that thing was made of was poisonous in and of itself.

"He needs elfish medicine." Aragorn announced grimly. He reached for the hobbit, as if intending to hoisted the Hobbit onto his shoulders. He winced violently as he extended his arm and Sakura grabbed his wrist with an iron like grip.

"It's fine," he growled, but Sakura wouldn't hear of it.

"Do you really think you're going to be of any use to anyone like _that_?" she asked in a terse voice. "Don't be an idiot."

She knew Aragorn hadn't seen her heal yet, but they didn't have time for her to explain what she was going to do. She simply called on her chakra and wrapped her glowing palm around his wound, and rolled her eyes discreetly as he clamped his mouth shut on a particularly unmanly yelp. His eyes widened as the disturbing sensation of his flesh knitting back together came over him. There was an odd tingling sensation as her hand left his skin, and with astounded eyes he spread the cut in his sleeve only to find a fresh scar underneath. He spared Sakura one amazed glance before she was bundling the shuddering hobbit onto his back and herding the rest of the hobbits into action.

They were stalled by some precious minutes while the hobbits quickly thrust what belongings they could find back into their packs and into Bill's saddlebags, and Sam wrestled Bill down the hill and into a brisk trot. Sakura whizzed around the site, gathering up as many of her fallen kunai as she could. She managed to retrieve her gloves, and tugged them on impatiently. She spared barely a second to glare at the holes across the knuckles of her left hand, where she'd singed through the material entirely.

Aragorn waited without patience, barking out unnecessary orders, while he watched the others fumbling with their belongings and Sakura sped about so fast she looked blurred even to his eyes. That was another thing he'd have to mull over later. In record time she was by his side again, and she picked up his sword. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise, and then narrowed in suspicion as she looked upon his blade properly for the first time, but she elected not to comment. Instead she simply slid it into the scabbard on his belt for him as gently as she could. He didn't even appear to notice, so focussed was he on the hobbit on his back.

The group fled through the night. Sam led Bill along at a pace that the pony had never run in his life, as likely as not. Sakura found that the hobbit's could be remarkably silent and fast, when needed, and she herself stayed close to the group, running without chakra to conserve it as much as she could. Aragorn led them toward the land of the elves at a ground-breaking pace, but still she couldn't help but feel that they would be too late. Already, Frodo's condition was declining at an alarming rate. The darkness was pressing in on them. It was smothering. Even the very trees seemed to hold them back, snagging on their cloaks and sleeves, and tripping their feet. Fear nagged at Sakura's mind, but she was going on instinct now.

She ran silently behind the hobbits, her every sense on the alert for pursuers, and the cries of the Ringwraiths echoed in her ears with frightening clarity. It was only Frodo's pained sobs that brought them to a halt. Sakura's hands were instantly on him, determined at least to numb the pain if she could not draw out the poison.

"Get me some water," she ordered at a random hobbit, and knew only that someone had run off into the underbrush; she didn't look up to see who. She busied herself with freezing his nerve endings in the shoulder, and dabbing the sweat from his forehead gently with the hem of her cloak. Behind her, Aragorn muttered something about Kings Foil and disappeared into the wood, no doubt searching for his miracle-plant. The sloshing of water against the walls of a water skin brought her attention to Sam, who collapsed to his knees with the full pouch in hand. He looked sick with worry.

"What are you gonna' _do _Stranger?" he whispered in a voice strangled with fear.

She gritted her teeth, and gestured the other two hobbits over. "I am going," she said as calmly as she could, "to try and draw the poison out. I've numbed the pain as much as I can but…"

"But?" Sam said sharply.

"But you are going to have to hold him down," she said gravely. And with that faith-inducing sentence, Sakura uncorked the water-skin and closed her eyes, concentrating on manipulating the water with her self-developed jutsu. Slowly, the bubble gathered around her hand, and she moved the hand slowly to Frodo's shoulder, anxious not to left it dissolve. This was the hard part, and she only hoped the hobbits could snap themselves out of their dumbstruck stupor long enough to wrestle him back to the ground.

"Get ready," she warned, and forced the fluid-ball against Frodo's skin, and _into _the wound. She gritted her teeth as he thrashed about, and threw all her concentration into manipulating her chakra in just…the right…way…

Something was nagging at her mind, but she forced it away in favour of tunnelling her vision on the injured hobbit. He needed her full attention, and she couldn't afford to get this technique wrong. Sam, Merry and Pippin, watched in shock from their prone positions across Frodo's limbs, holding him with their own combined body weight and still having to fight him, as Sakura slowly drew the ball of water and chakra out of Frodo's wound again. Her brow was becoming damp with the effort of fighting with her own patient and her own technique, but steadily the discoloured, foul smelling poison was drawing out with the fluid. She let the ball drop onto the dirt with a splash; it sizzled slightly, and soaked quickly into the ground.

Frodo groaned quietly, and Sam caringly brushed his sweat-dampened hair away from his forehead. Sakura let her senses widen and expand, relaxing ever so slightly, only to freeze as soon as she did so. Kakashi-sensei had always told her to listen to her instincts and right now they had gone past nagging and had started screaming at her.

"There is somebody else here," she breathed in horror.

The hobbits' eyes widened in alarm. But anything they might have said fell on deaf ears.

Sakura had to find Aragorn.

"Watch him!"

She took off in the direction he'd gone, tracking his path by the flattened grass and trampled roots. She channelled chakra to her eyes and ears, enhancing her senses tenfold at least, and found him surprisingly quickly. He'd not gone far.

Her relief was cut short when she saw where he _had_ gone. Aragorn knelt amid a thicket of the plants she recognised as Kings Foil, from one of the drawings in 'Strider's' plant journal. Several stalks of the plant were pulled taught in his hand, and he had his knife poised to cut them away. And he would have, no doubt, if his head were not tilted at an uncomfortable angle by the woman that stood over him, with a long, _sharp _sword in her slender little hand. Sakura felt anger course through her veins.

"What is this?" The fair woman asked, using her sword to tip his chin up toward her, so that he had no choice but to look at her face. "A Ranger caught off his guard?"

But it was the woman's turn to freeze, when the sharp blade of Sakura's kunai met the skin of her throat.

"Don't. Move."

**To be continued…**

**For your benefit, changes (if they're not obvious) made to this chapter include:**

**Roughly the first 700 words. It occurred to me that Aragorn was bound to feel a bit nostalgic and whimsical in a place with so much history to his people. As for what he is lost in thought about, maybe his parents, maybe his past, maybe even Arwen. Who knows what he'd be remembering? I rather liked the idea of him wanting to share a little of Weathertop's history with someone, because some things shouldn't be forgotton.**

**As for the rest, mostly editing and expanding so it's a bit less like: Sakura killed that one like this, then that one, and Aragorn killed that one, and Frodo was dying…**

**And I felt like Sakura should have more of a role in Frodo's healing, though since there is a shard still in there poisoning him, it's effectiveness is somewhat limited.**

**And finally, when reading over the original, it seemed to me like nobody ever got hurt, with the exception of a few nasty things I did to Sakura throughout the story. Hence, both Sakura and Aragorn suffer some damage, and Aragorn gets to see yet another of Sakura's abilities for the first time :)**

**This chapter I decided to stick to the movie more-or-less. But for those who know who Glorfindel is, he will also be appearing so keep an eye out for him next chappie! :) This particular section of the story is going to be a bit of a pick and mix between the bits I liked from the movie and the bits I liked from the book.**

**~Devi1OnUrShou1der~**


	8. Chapter Seven

**When In Middle Earth: The edited, revised and face-lifted edition****:**

**When in Middle Earth, do as the Middle-Earthlings do. ****Sakura finds herself in the midst of Middle Earth, immersed in a war she has no part in, saving a world and people she doesn't know, and why? Because Naruto would be disappointed in her if she ever got back and told him she hadn't...**

_**Chapter Seven:**_

_**In which competition is healthy, except when it's Sakura.**_

**Disclaimer: **

**The Lord of The Rings, it's associated characters and components are copyright and property of its author J. R. R. Tolkien, the actors that played them, and the director of the trilogy of films of the same name, Peter Jackson. The character Sakura and any components associated with the manga and anime 'Naruto' are property and copyright of Masashi Kishimoto**

**The story continues:**

When asked, later, Glorfindel would find himself entirely unable to describe the scene he witnessed.

He and his Lady had searched for some days for news of their expected guests to no avail, only for the she-elf to abruptly dismount, order him to remain where he was and promptly disappear into the underbrush. At first, he had been…if not entirely unconcerned, then certainly less so. However, when she had failed to return after some hours, and the cry of the Ringwraith had rung out through the night, he was filled with a fear deep and strong. Tying the rein of her great mount Asfaloth to the horn of his own saddle, the elf has set off into the wood, brushing aside branches and following what little tracks he could find. He dared not dismount, for fear of losing time, and yet to track her Ladyship's movements would be infinitely easier on foot. As it was, his horse was as sure footed as any of those elven-raised beasts, and he felt safer atop his mount. The light of dawn was staining the horizon when he finally came upon what he sought. Not the lady Arwen, but four hobbits, one of whom lay sweaty and feverish upon the earth.

He registered his shock at their being unattended. These could be no others than the expected ring-bearer and his companions, but if that was so, where was the Dunedán? He stilled his horse, sparing but a moment to question them, only to receive word from the fearful Halflings that the Ranger that guided them had gone in search of King's foil, and that his companion had followed him. Glorfindel furrowed his brow, knowing of no companion that the Dunedán would take with him on such a journey, and grew concerned. The hobbits were watching him fretfully. The fatter of the four, crouched protectively over Baggins (for who else could he be?) was the first (or only) to recognize his species.

"You, you're an elf," the hobbit breathed, in equal parts awe and relief.

"Are you here to help?" the smaller asked somewhat timidly.

Glorfindel kept his responses short, clipped and to the point. He had yet to find his lady and two now were missing from this party. The cries of the Ringwraiths he had not heard for some time, but that thought was not necessarily one that brought comfort. It may simply mean that their concentration was now bent upon something else, and there was a chill in the air which he did not care to feel. The elf, offering what few reassurances he could to the Halflings, quickly explained his purpose in seeking his Lady. To their next line of questioning he gave no answer, only leaving the horses with them with instruction to take both and flee should he not return in short order. Then he had marched into the trees with a single purpose in mind.

And marched straight into a scene he could never have imagined.

Knelt upon the damp ground was his missing Ranger, named often the Dunedán among the elves, Strider by men, and many names after that. His cheek was marred by a long, cruel cut and his chin tilted upward by a gleaming blade. Glorfindel's gaze travelled up that blade to the still form of the Lady Arwen, her slim pale hands clenched tight about her weapon and her head held rigidly still. But the crux of this picture was neither man nor elf, and it made him freeze in equal parts shock and horror. There was a knife, strangely shaped yet wickedly sharp, pointed directly at Arwen's slender throat. The blade was so close that should she but twitch, it would score a deep line across that white skin. And bearing that weapon…had he been less dignified Glorfindel was sure his jaw might have dropped.

It was a girl, no more than sixteen or seventeen years of age, for certain, and a human girl at that. But that was not the strangest thing. The girl's eyes were a vibrant green, narrowed and practically blazing with a fierce anger and spirit. Her hair glowed in the brightening dawn, a pink that would put many a flower to shame. But _that_ was not the strangest thing. This girl was stood firmly on the underside of a tree branch. _Upside down._ Her posture reflected the same defensive position that he himself might have adopted on the ground, her feet apart and firmly rooted to the bark. He might almost have thought her the mere product of reflection, a trick of the light, if her hair hadn't been hanging down over her cheeks and exposing her neck, and the morning sun weren't glinting sinisterly off the knife held firmly in her hand.

"Don't. Move."

The girl-child's voice rang out crisply in the clearing. There was a coldness in her face and voice that chilled him to his core. Never had he seen such a thing in a girl so young; such a vengeful, passionate anger. He moved at once to interfere. He had the element of surprise on his side, she did not see him, and an elf could move so quietly that she'd never-

-the air twanged as the knife sailed past his ear and embedded inches into the tree trunk behind him. Glorfindel stopped short, his breath shocked still in his throat as he felt the unmistakable trickle of blood seeping from the nick in his earlobe.

"No Sakura!"

At once Aragorn was on his feet, knocking Arwen's sword aside. Seeking to take advantage of the distraction, Arwen carefully tilted her head, aiming to maximize the distance between the blade and her neck. But to no avail. She was shocked to find that, without the stranger so much as glancing at her, that knife followed her movement and pressed just a little closer into her skin in silent admonishment. She swallowed and stilled, her eyes flicking to Aragorn. She didn't fail to notice Glorfindel, struck dumb on the other side of the clearing by a frighteningly accurate throw. The girl hadn't looked at him either.

Arwen tried to keep her breathing steady as she contemplated the indications of that. It was only then that she realized with a start; the girl hadn't once taken her gaze off Aragorn.

The Ranger stood now facing her with an open fear on his face. Sakura, he had named her. Could it be that he knew this child-warrior?

Sakura noticed the flicker of unhidden fear in his face, and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She did not drop her blade. Her eyes tracked his facial expressions, watching as his eyes flickered anxiously as she followed the movement of her captives neck. The very air seemed thick with tension and poised on, quite literally, a razor's edge, in wait. Aragorn breathed deeply and adopted the same soothing voice he'd used when they first met, and placatingly held up his palms.

"Peace Sakura," he murmured consolingly. He was acutely aware that her actions were entirely justified. On some level he was profoundly grateful that she would seek to protect him so. On the majority of other levels he was remembering the way that she'd ruthlessly kicked a wraith off a tower, and was panicking for the safety of his one-and-only love. Unforunately Sakura was not privy to that information and it was entirely possible that she would make good on her threat if he didn't do something.

"She meant nothing by it," he continued, trying to keep his voice steady and reassuring. By the suspicious narrowing of her eyes, he was not hiding his fear as well as he hoped. "She is Arwen, daughter of Elrond Lord of Rivendell." He knew the name of Arwen would mean nothing to the ninja, but silently he prayed that the mention of their destination at least would alleviate some of Sakura's distrust. "She is an elf, Sakura." He added, seeking to remind her of the aid they sought.

There was an excruciating period of tense silence as Sakura considered this, before she slowly relaxed her stance - though still she did not remove the weapon. The entire clearing held its breath. She addressed Aragorn in a cautious voice. "You know her?"

He nodded quickly. "She is here to help us."

"It didn't look like she was helping you," Sakura commented, in the deceptively mild voice that Aragorn had come to recognize. Fool be him that thought that voice meant her anger abated, he thought silently. He knew her anger was not gone, but merely reduced to a simmer and just as capable of bubbling over again at a moments notice. He had to pick his words carefully. He watched her like one would watch an unpredictable wild animal. And knew what to say.

It was, he lamented mildly in his head, a bit of a dirty trick, really.

"Trust me," he pleaded quietly, "if you will not trust her."

Sakura stiffened. Her green eyes locked on his. Aragorn was no stranger to loyalty. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had Sakura's. She would not refuse such a plea from one she trusted. And trust him she did. She had shown him that. He felt torn by his fear for Arwen's safety and his guilt over taking advantage of that steadfastness. After all, she had only reacted in his defense.

"_He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade." _The words burned across Sakura's memory, accompanied by the surefire knowledge that Frodo needed more than she could give him. She had no knowledge of the poison in his system or the significance of his wound. _"He needs elvish medicine."_

Sensing her hesitance, Arwen carefully swallowed. Mindful of the knife still hovering near her jugular, she spoke softly, "We have been searching for you for days."

The human's eyes slid sideways then, and met the elf's unblinkingly. She gathered her courage and stared back, stunned for but a moment by the youthful face that she finally saw in all clarity. How young this girl must be, and yet, how aged and world-worn her eyes were already. She held her weapon like she'd done so all her life.

Holding the elf's gaze, Sakura came to her decision. She abruptly lowered her blade.

"Help then," she ordered sharply. And with that, she dropped to the ground and disappeared through the trees, pausing only to rip her knife out of the tree as she passed Glorfindel.

The clearing breathed again.

"What an interesting friend you have made," Arwen remarked quietly, touching her throat. Aragorn nodded uneasily, and hastily cutting free the King's Foil, he led the elves toward Frodo.

_**pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~~pagebreak~**_

Feeling angry and strangely betrayed, Sakura bounded back to the hobbits. She was not entirely surprised to find two gleaming grey horses standing nearby, their reins carelessly looped over a low-lying branch. One was so pale as to be almost white, and the little sun that shone through the canopy made its coat shine. The other was darker and dappled with silver spots. It snorted softly as she passed them. Bill grazed nearby, looking small and shabby in comparison. She patted the pony gently as she strode by.

The hobbits crouched around Frodo, for once their minds not on food or how sore their feet were. It felt wrong somehow, to see them so grave and quiet. Sakura felt her face twist into a grim expression. She dropped onto her heels beside the prone hobbit.

"He looks better Stranger," Sam whispered, as if afraid to speak louder.

Sakura nodded in silence, hands already reaching for his shoulder. Gently, she parted the torn edges of his shirt and examined the wound. It was weeping still, and the edges looked almost burned. But even so, his face was less green, his forehead less clammy. His eyes flickered under his eyelids in a manner more reminiscent of deep sleep than feverish dreaming, though his fingers still twitched spasmodically with pain, and his mouth was pinched. Her fingers pressed gently against his skin and her eyes fluttered closed, focusing her attention on the probing of her chakra. A muttered curse fell from her lips. _**'Kuso'**_.

She could feel his system fighting, but fighting what she didn't know. Almost all of the poison had been drawn out by her jutsu and yet it lingered in his tissues, burning and coiling within him like some vicious, microscopic snake. She gritted her teeth and probed deeper. She was struck numb to feel something pushing back at her. Her eyes snapped open.

"There's something inside," she said, glaring at the wound on his shoulder.

The three conscious hobbits looked at her in alarm.

"The end of the blade, like as not." Aragorn's voice startled the Halflings, and they jumped a little, but Sakura made no movement. He came striding out of the undergrowth with two elves in tow.

"It's poisoning him from the inside out," Sakura stated without looking around, in the cold, detached voice of a professional. "I could try to get it out, but it's so deep that I'd have to cut open his shoulder to do it."

Sam blanched.

Sakura continued obliviously, "But there is a pretty good chance that the shard is blocking up the hole deeper down, and removing it might do more damage than leaving it in. He could run the risk of losing too much blood to recover from. That said, I can only keep drawing out the poison, or whatever it is, for so long before my chakra runs too low for the technique to work properly. And if we haven't reached another healer by that point, he's, frankly, more or less buggered."

Glorfindel and Arwen did not understand quite what the strange girl was saying – some of her words and turns of phrase were entirely alien to them. It was abundantly clear that the girl had medical knowledge, even some degree of healing power, but to what extent they did not know. Glorfindel, who bore no little degree of skill in elvish healing stepped forward cautiously.

"If I may offer a second opinion?" he murmured in as respectful a tone as he could manage.

"I suppose that depends on how knowledgeable that opinion is," Sakura replied icily. The elf's eyes narrowed.

"Considerably so," he said, more sharply than he'd intended, "I was not chosen for this search based on speed alone."

He stepped briskly to Frodo's opposite side and dropped gracefully to his knee.

"This is no wound of a mortal blade," he muttered darkly, long fingers brushing aside the fabric of Frodo's shirt in much the same way that Sakura's had just moments before.

"It was a Morgul blade," Aragorn offered up from behind Sakura, where he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off harshly, refusing to look at him. Glorfindel's brows drew down into a deep frown.

"Then the tip must be removed by the proper method, else it may crumble and spread its venom yet more quickly." He looked up sharply at Sakura. "You spoke of drawing out the poison. I know of no such power. It is beyond the realm of the possible, surely."

"Most surely it is not!" Pippin cried indignantly. "I saw it myself! And he looks much the better for it too." All three hobbits scowled at the elf in union, much to his surprise.

"I assure you that I can," Sakura said in the same dangerously cold tone. Like hell was she going to sit about and have her _own bloody technique_ questioned by some pointy-eared git she didn't know.

"Then it is much for the better," the elf Lady finally came forward to intervene in her soft, commanding voice. "We have yet six days to travel as the crow flies, and more than crows are on our tail. We waste time arguing, we must make haste."

'Easy for her to say,' Sakura thought sourly. 'I notice _she's _not offering any other-worldly healing advice.' Nevertheless, she set to preparing Frodo to move again. With care, she pulled him upright. Sam cradled his master gently while Sakura reached for his sleeve and ripped it off at the seam with a single purposeful tug. The rip caused the wary hobbits to start, but Glorfindel kept himself still and composed, much to the relief of his pride. He couldn't quite stop his eyebrows from rising into his hairline however.

Sakura ignored them all. She pulled the water canteen to her with a purpose and wet the now-detached sleeve with what was left in it. This she used to clean the wound as deftly as she could, before she produced from the pack around her waist a roll of crisp, clean bandage. Glorfindel aided her in wrapping Frodo's shoulder with a proficiency which left her reluctantly impressed, and credited him in her eyes as a healer, more surely than any talk of poison and Morgul blades ever could. And with the hobbit thus treated they prepared to leave.

The hobbits gathered their things with a quick wariness, Aragorn with grave purpose, and Sakura with a chilliness that no-one was quite prepared to brave. It occurred to Aragorn as he helped Glorfindel lift Frodo onto the back of a horse, that Sakura was angry with him specifically. She was worried for their charge, certainly; distrusting of the elves without a doubt, but angry? He winced as his guilt came back full force. He'd used her trust against her, and he bore her resentment for it.

The group moved off in silence. Frodo, atop the horse named Asfaloth, was in the centre of the group, led by the elf Glorfindel. Ahead of him Aragorn led the second horse with Arwen beside him, and behind came the three hobbits and the pony Bill. The elvish horses picked their path straight and true, headed for the Ford of Bruinen and the Loudwater, and from those banks the idyllic Rivendell.

Sakura had disappeared into the treetops not seconds after their first steps were taken. Arwen looked to Aragorn in concern.

"_She is scouting_," he whispered to her softly in the Elvin tongue. "_It is her habit to double back and check for signs of pursuit, and to cover any tracks that may lay, and her habit again to check ahead, least danger approaches or waits_."

"_A worthy caution, but one person cannot do so much alone, nor all at once_."

Aragorn smiled a secretive little smile, and Arwen looked on it with burning curiosity.

"_Do not underestimate what she is capable of_," he murmured. "_You have seen but a fraction of her capabilities. Did you not see her defy gravity itself?_"

"_I was trying not to turn my head at the time_," she reminded him in a low voice. He kissed her knuckles apologetically. "_I_ _brought it upon myself I suppose_," Arwen conceded at last, after a moment of demure silence and thought. "_She has the gift of magic then?_" she then asked with a slight frown of incomprehension, "_I thought what few humans possessed that gift were men alone. Or has the meaning of the word Wizard changed in your tongue?_"

"_Not to my knowledge,_" he answered mildly. He did not clarify to which of her questions he meant the reply.

Overhead, Sakura sent out several clones in different directions, and chomped down viciously on a soldier pill. Six days was entirely too much time for things to wrong, in her opinion.

Under her skin, her chakra thrummed gently, pulsing in time with the adrenaline still fueling her every move. The Kunoichi stood poised on a high branch, her back to the retreating group and her eyes on the rise of Weathertop. It rose like a formidable beacon over the treetops – they were not nearly far enough from it yet. On its banks, a shadow like an oversized ant scurried across its surface and into the shadows of the trees that climbed it. Sakura's eyes tingled as she let the chakra drain from them.

She schooled her features into the blank mask of a ninja and counted slowly to ten, leveling her chakra flow and reining in her emotions. She was a ninja, and she was on a mission.

And she'd be damned if she'd let anything get in the way of it. She wouldn't fail.

**To be continued…**

**For your benefit, changes (if they're not obvious) made to this chapter include:**

**Glorfindel! Who has possibly the coolest name ****ever****.**

**Character development! (Golly, that's a change isn't it?)**

**Detail! (I know! Amazing!)**

**Also, to those who were wondering: I was camping, with no computer and no internet, for the past two weeks :) Ergo, no updates. Sorry about that. Before that it was uni, and after this it's probably going to be uni too :( I have tests next week. I'll do my best, but the weekly updates might not be quite so…weekly for a bit I'm afraid. At least until summer holidays in 9 weeks time :)**

**In the mean time, enjoy Glorfindel.**

**~Devi1OnUrShou1der~**


	9. Chapter Eight

**When In Middle Earth: The edited, revised and face-lifted edition:**

**When in Middle Earth, do as the Middle-Earthlings do.****Sakura finds herself in the midst of Middle Earth, immersed in a war she has no part in, saving a world and people she doesn't know, and why? Because Naruto would be disappointed in her if she ever got back and told him she hadn't...**

_**Chapter Eight:**_

_**In which they are found.**_

**Disclaimer:**

**The Lord of The Rings, it's associated characters and components are copyright and property of its author J. R. R. Tolkien, the actors that played them, and the director of the trilogy of films of the same name, Peter Jackson. The character Sakura and any components associated with the manga and anime 'Naruto' are property and copyright of Masashi Kishimoto**

**The story continues:**

"Why is Stranger so cross with you?"

The question was so blunt, and unexpected, that Aragorn outwardly started. He looked down to meet Pippin's upturned face, only to find the hobbit sporting a distinctly concerned frown and Merry barely a step behind, bearing the very same expression. His face twisted guiltily. Aragorn averted his gaze upward, as much to avoid those worried gazes as to look for a hint of pink among the foliage. Sakura was nowhere to be seen however, and he sighed minutely. In the two days since the elves had joined their party, he had seen her but four times. At all times she kept up her scout. Only when they halted their flight in the late hours, and again before the dawn saw them set off again, did she appear to tend Frodo. Each time she appeared from another direction, and even Glorfindel's keen eyes and ears couldn't mark her path 'til she landed. He had attempted to offer his aid in some measure of recompense, but was met with only a stoniness that he, personally, had never received from Sakura before, and he soon retreated. Glorfindel aided her when she would allow it, but then only insofar as redressing his wounds required. To all other ends she enlisted only the hobbits, who seemed to be currently in her favour. Or, at least, more so than anyone else.

Merry, Pippin, and Sam complied immediately and without question, following her instructions without pause. So far she had utilised the entire contents of both her own, and Sam's, water skins to employ her incredible poison-extraction, whilst the sturdy Halflings held their kin down. He and Glorfindel could have done the same with half the effort, but the little medic would glare them down if they so much as moved toward her patient. Aragorn grimaced slightly. It was abundantly clear that Sakura's ire had not abated. He found that he could not truly fault her for it – she had told him enough of her world for him to see that trust was rare and highly valued for one such as her. She had every right to feel betrayed by him. And for two beings who had yet to prove themselves allies in her eyes, no less.

"Strider?" Pippin questioned again. He frowned remorsefully.

"I took advantage of her trust in me to force her into a position she is neither comfortable nor content in," he admitted. Guilt surged within him anew at the confession.

Pippin and Merry gaped.

"You did _what_?"

Whatever Aragorn had expected from the hobbits, this was not it. They looked utterly flabbergasted. Pippin's little mouth had dropped so much open that he almost thought the hobbit could catch small birds in it, let alone flies.

"What on Middle Earth would you go and do something like that for?" It was Merry that voiced the thought first, Pippin nodding vigorously in indignant agreement. "You're the only one she _does_ trust!"

Aragorn was not entirely sure how to respond to that. As it was, the smaller hobbit quickly interjected _his _two cents, and he found himself for the first time completely speechless in the face of Pippin's self-righteous indignation.

"If she had even half as much trust in me as she had in you, I'd treasure it! Not _abuse_ it!" said Pippin hotly, looking – to Aragorn's mind – unreasonably offended. "Especially seeing as hers is so hard to come by!"

"Given that you are very little threat to her Mr. Took, I hardly think that she _needs_ to trust _you_," replied Aragorn somewhat snippily. He was already feeling guilty enough as it was without these hobbits presuming to lecture him on it, not least when he couldn't for the life of him figure out just when Sakura had become such a matter of their concern.

"From what I have seen neither are _you_," Pippin sniped right back, looking cross. The Ranger flinched. He couldn't truthfully refute that. He was strong, and physically he was bigger than her, but every day it seemed that the girl unveiled some new power. He was growing more and more aware that his peaceful relationship with her so far had been much less to do with Sakura being _unable _to harm him and much more to do with her simply not _choosing_ to do so. It was hardly a point that he wished to argue with the hobbits however.

"Perhaps not," he said lowly, "though I do wonder at your caring so very strongly, little hobbits?"

They bristled, at his subtle emphasis on the word 'little' no doubt, and drew themselves up, much to his private amusement.

"And why shouldn't we? She saved our lives," said Merry.

"More than once," interrupted Pippin.

"She's saving Frodo," said Merry.

"Exactly," said Pippin, as if this clinched the matter. Apparently the only prerequisite for scoring oneself some hobbit-loyalty was saving other hobbits, Aragorn mused silently, and just a little critically.

"Well, I am sure your support means the world to her," he replied blandly, and quickened his pace to draw level with Arwen again.

He ignored the knowing look she gave him in favour of scanning the treetops again. He hadn't meant to be quite so callous toward the hobbits, but as was oft with Men, in his anger at himself he had taken it out on the nearest available outlet. In this case, two rather defensive hobbits, whom despite good intentions, had far less claim to Sakura's loyalty than he had. Or perhaps far more, he amended the thought gloomily, acutely aware that between his guilt, his worry and his distinct lack of sleep, he was being utterly unreasonable. Arwen's light hand on his arm drew his attention back to her.

"_My, my, what must this girl mean to you, I wonder, if a little cold treatment prompts you into arguing with hobbits of all creatures?" _The elf-maiden teased softly. _"Perhaps if I am to have some of your attention I should do the same?"_

Aragorn sighed heavily, and moved his hand over hers to interlace their fingers, squeezing gently.

"_I am sorry Arwen,"_ he murmured in Sindarin, _"Guilt weighs heavily on my mind, and worry, and foreboding."_ He offered her a weary smile, _"I promise that once we are once again safely ensconced within fair Rivendell, I shall bestow all of my time and attention on you alone. Together we shall walk under the trees and take our meals under the sun, and as dusk approaches we may watch the sun fade as we once did every day. Do you remember?"_

"_I do," _She whispered softly,_ "And how wondrous it will be to do so again, my love. But I do not presume to hold all your time to myself," _here she brushed the pad of her thumb across the back of his hand in a familiar, comforting caress, _"The girl feels wounded by you, does she not? Give her time, dear man, and space. She will forgive you eventually. Regardless of race, women are the same after all, and most especially when they are slighted." _

This time his smile was less weary, full of gratitude, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. Arwen unclasped their hands in favour of slipping her arm through his, and laid her head on his shoulder, smiling serenely up at him. _"Now,"_ she murmured, _"Tell me, why do they call her Stranger?"_

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The clone hopped idly from tree to tree, keeping herself directly above the white horse and it's increasingly sick occupant. She saw Aragorn search the trees more than once, and was not a little smug that he had yet to see her. But then, she _was _behind him, and as a clone constructed entirely of chakra she was virtually weightless, meaning she was even more silent than her human counterpart. This was precisely the reason that the clone was the one shadowing the group, while the real Sakura brought up the rear – she didn't particularly want to be seen. As yet she had no reason to trust these 'elves' and she was loath to let them out of her sight, especially since she didn't know the extent of their capabilities. The woman knew how to use a sword and the ashen-haired male knew some medicine, but that was the extent of her knowledge. And unlike hobbits, who were entirely too trusting in her personal opinion, she wasn't about to let her guard down just because _Strider_ thought they were alright.

Hearing her name (or 'Stranger' at least) her attention was caught. The clone allowed herself to speed up a little, and soundlessly slipped from tree to tree, following a conversation between Aragorn, and Merry and Pippin. What followed caused her pink eyebrows to slide nearly into her hairline.

"- half much trust in me as she had in you, I'd treasure it!" the smaller hobbit was saying. Well, that was interesting…She was vindictively pleased to see the Ranger looking guilty.

The exchange concluded quickly, and she narrowed her eyes as Aragorn sped up to catch the lady-elf.

'**Oh yes,' **she thought with a mild sneer as she saw him take her hand, **'he thinks **_**she **_**is quite a bit of alright.' **

The clone snorted indelicately and dropped back to Frodo again. Her real self would certainly be interested to know _that_ when the clone was dismissed. She filed the matter of Merry and Pippin under 'Not important yet – deal with later', and set to Frodo-watching once more.

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Sakura was rather proud of her latest genjutsu. Of course, she still wasn't certain that they worked on Ringwraiths, but the horses were fair game and would almost certainly be relying on sight, which was precisely what this particularly nifty little illusion targeted. It was quite brilliant in its simplicity really. In fact, it wouldn't appear any different at all from the real forest, absolutely identical in fact, except for one tiny little detail. That detail being that in the illusion, three neat little sets of hoof-prints and eight sets of footprints would be clearly visible hurrying in _completely the wrong direction_. Yes, Sakura was proud of that one.

Satisfied, she took to the treetops once more, stopping now and then to carefully brush away any real prints, and periodically checking behind her. Her senses were heightened to incredible sensitivity by the chakra thrumming through her system and as she breathed deeply, letting her sense widen and expand, she clearly felt the presence of her own muted chakra in the form of her four clones. One ran ahead of the group, but had yet to disperse or send back a warning, so it seemed all was safe that way for the moment. Some metres to the left and right, two more clones flanked the party, while one monitored their patient from overhead. She frowned as she felt that one move forward out of position, but it soon dropped back. Sakura decided to simply leave it be and find out what it was about later. Sakura let go of the breath and felt her field of awareness narrow back to normal proportions. It was a particularly helpful little meditative technique that she'd picked up from Hyuuga Hinata – not a jutsu per se, and not nearly as good as the byakugaan, but useful.

Carefully springing from tree to tree, Sakura made sure to keep her chakra balanced and regulated so as not to disturb the branches. Even fallen leaves could make a trail after all. She contemplated sending one of the clones to check on the road, certain that if they weren't being followed through the wilderness then certainly the Riders would be headed along that way – no doubt aiming to catch them at the 'last bridge'. From what she had seen on the map, they would have to rejoin the road and take that route at some point or another, as there was simply no other way into Rivendell. Great tactics from a defensive point of view, she gave the elves that much credit, but distinctly inconvenient for Ring-bearers on the run. They wouldn't be able to hide in the trees forever.

She gave some thought to this. Mentally, she drew up a picture of the map she'd studied and tried to work out how far they had come so far. At last however, she decided to wait. It would definitely benefit them to do it when they got closer, but for now she elected to reserve her chakra. She had in fact expended very little. She'd used the boost from the soldier pill to create the clones, thus barely touching her own reserves. Furthermore, she hadn't expended any chakra on Frodo either. In fact, each time 'she' tended him, it had in fact been another clone. Using a different one each time meant that she didn't need to use any of her own, while preventing the clones from losing too much and risking their dispersal. So far she'd used four of them, the fifth would attend to Frodo when they stopped tonight, and she would finally do it herself in the morning.

Contrary to what the academy taught, using chakra wasn't just about control, but strategy and forward planning, as Sakura found. Of course that meant Naruto would _still_ never master it perfectly, but he had so much chakra anyway that it hardly mattered…But thinking of Naruto brought a lump to her throat, and homesickness wasn't something she had time to dwell on just yet. So she firmly pushed that thought to the back of her mind and forced herself to concentrate on what she had to do.

Two days without pursuit was too….convenient.

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On the third day there were still no signs of pursuit.

Glorfindel, in all his wisdom, pronounced Frodo's condition to be stable – or rather, that he wasn't getting any worse.

The hobbits were glad.

Sakura was suspicious.

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On the fourth day, they approached the road. Still with no indication of pursuit, Pippin ventured the opinion that perhaps the Ringwraiths had given up, or else that they thought Frodo dead and thus they needn't bother any longer.

Glorfindel agreed that this was not unlikely, but cautioned against letting down their guard.

Aragorn was uneasy. He told them not to let their guard down at all – it would be foolish to assume the road safe, and most especially the Last Bridge.

Sakura said nothing. But at night, she held a meeting with her clones. It was short, and very little was actually said. And in the morning the hobbits were glad to see that 'Sakura' had rejoined them on the ground and would be walking with them from then on. They didn't know that three more 'Sakuras' were flanking them with their weapons in hand and their senses on alert.

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In the latest hours of the fourth day, so late as to be almost early morning on the fifth, the real Sakura left the group behind. She followed the road to the bridge, and there she stood upon the rail and gazed into the churning water of the Bruinen. There, Sakura did not bother to search the ground; for there are many reasons for horse-prints to be on a road, and one cannot guarantee that any one horseshoe means what one thinks it does; nor how long they may have sat there in the dust with no rainfall to clear them.

Instead, Sakura sat. She perched on the railing like a strange, foreign bird, closed her eyes and allowed her awareness to stretch out like a net. She summoned her mental map again, and slipping into a meditative state, took stock of her surroundings; the river below her; the swell of the bank on the other side; thick, close-knit trees (that the map labelled Trollshaws) which stretched across the plain from river to river, and at last gave way to rolling hills and coarse grass.

In the earliest hours of the fifth day, Sakura prepared.

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They had been walking for hours, Sam's weary feet told him, when Frodo began to groan. It was an awful sound, worse even than when he'd first been stabbed, the likes of which they'd not heard in days. Sam's head whipped up, and to his horror he saw that his master and friend had taken on a deathly pallor. His brow was drenched with sweat and his chest heaved with laboured breaths. He let out a noise so agonised that before he knew it, Sam was by his side with his hand in his own, and garbling barely coherent entreaties for Stranger to do '_something_, _anything__, __**please**__'_.

Frodo seemed to choke, his eyes flying open only to stare wildly into nothingness. And he was cold, so very cold. He seemed as if he was having a fit. His fingers clenched painfully around Sam's, only to slacken but a second later, and then clench again. His hands were shaking. Glorfindel and Stranger rushed to his aid, but nothing either of them did seemed to have any effect. It was as if something foul had overtaken him and was repelling any attempt to curb it. Merry and Pippin looked on in horror, while Sam was openly sobbing.

And it was amidst this confusion and alarm that three _more _Sakuras dropped from the trees onto the verge. They stood where they landed, in a loose triangle surrounding the group by the road. None of them so much as twitched at the sudden shouts of panic and shock. Only Aragorn recognised the technique for what it was but in such a situation any hope of explaining was lost.

The Sakuras didn't bother trying. In fact, the identical girls seemed to ignore the rest of the group entirely, focussing only on their doppelganger.

"They've found us," one growled from behind them, to the Sakura by Frodo. She promptly swore in a language none of the group understood.

"How many?" The same Sakura barked out.

"Four," replied yet another Sakura, grimly.

"They're coming down the road from the East," the last interjected. "They'll be on us in less than an hour, if we don't move fast!"

This triggered an entirely new bout of alarm and panic among the hobbits, only tempered momentarily by the sudden, barked command of "Disperse!" from the central Sakura and the equally sudden disappearance of the three clones. Pippin coughed, waving smoke away from his face with a look of abject shock.

"Who! What?"

"No time," the remaining Sakura barked at him, "We have to move _now_."

For once she and the elves were in complete and utter agreement. Glorfindel re-wrapped Frodo's shoulder tightly, while the Sakura clone clapped a hand over his forehead and injected a strong dose of chakra to his nerve-pathways. The hobbit gasped, and lay still.

"I've numbed the pain, but it's only temporary," she explained impatiently as she and the elf hoisted him more firmly into the saddle. Glorfindel made to mount behind him but he was tugged suddenly backward by the slim hand of his lady.

"My Lady-" he protested, but Arwen cut him off.

"I am the faster rider," she stated bluntly.

"And the more valuable," Aragorn growled behind her. "It is Frodo that the Wraiths pursue; only with him will you be in danger."

"It is true my lady," Glorfindel entreated, "Let me take him; there is no horse in Rivendell to rival Asfaloth in speed."

"Then I shall ride my own horse into danger if I must!" The elf-maid snapped, "We waste time arguing!"

"I agree," snarled Sakura fairly shoving Glorfindel and Aragorn out of the way. Arwen took their momentary distraction as opportunity to hop up and without a word she turned Asfaloth's head and urged him onward.

"Arwen!" The two males called out in distress.

"Take care of the hobbits," Sakura's clone shouted, and took off abruptly after Arwen on foot.

It took her a grand total of three bounds to catch up to the speeding Arwen, and took to running parallel with the horse. Arwen spared her a shocked and bewildered glance, before turning her attention to more important matters, namely Frodo. Together they flew down the road, dust and pebbles flying up behind them in a wicked cloud. Sakura, despite her distinct lack of equine knowledge, could see that the elvish horse was uncommonly fast. He was spurred on by his master's whispers of "Narulim Asfaloth," which Sakura guessed to mean something along the lines of "Go faster," not that it particularly mattered. They just needed to get as far as the bridge…

In no time at all, the tramping of hoofs sounded out behind them. The wraiths had caught up. Muttering a curse, Sakura's last clone turned her head to warn Arwen, only to realize that the elf woman was peering in fear over her shoulder and must have had already heard them. Did elves have better hearing than humans? She shook off the thought and turned her attention to the danger at hand.

"Get to the bridge!" She called to the elf, "I'll hold them off."

Arwen didn't need telling twice. With a sudden burst of passionate elvish she spurred Asfaloth into yet a faster pace, galloping without restraint toward the river. The bridge, the girl had said, but there were still the Trollshaws and the Ford to cross before she would reach Rivendell with Frodo, and time was short. Behind her, Arwen heard a shout that sounded something like "Cha!" followed by a resounding boom. Alarmed, she looked over her shoulder, only to see the four Riders rearing up at the edge of a freshly-formed chasm in the road.

They rallied, charging around the sides or springing across. With determination, Sakura's clone summoned another wave of chakra and _stomped_. Earth flew up around her as the Wraith's reeled back with a screech. Only this time, there was an answering screech from ahead.

Arwen's blood ran cold. An ambush.

Why had they not thought where the other five were? Could they have been so blind? Stricken, for a moment Arwen wheeled the horse about in a sudden stop - he protested, rising on his hind legs and pawing the air with a shrill neigh.

"Whoa!" she cried.

"Keep going!" shouted the Girl. Sakura sprang out of the dust cloud and slapped Asfaloth firmly on the rump. "Go!"

Her shout was drowned out by Asfaloth's high pitched whinny as he darted off again toward the bridge, hooves pounding the road so hard and fast that Arwen almost thought he'd send up sparks. _"Narulim Asfaloth, narulim!"_ she called again, regaining her wits as the river came into view. The bridge was open, and bare, and she almost wept with joy to see it unbarred.

The clone panted as she ran, barely ahead of the pursuing Ringwraiths. She could feel her chakra waning, and she grit her teeth, concentrating everything she had on staying solid, just until…yes! The bridge was in view. She watched as Arwen charged down the bank and over the wooden structure, leaving it clattering in her wake. The elf looked back as she reached the other side, just in time to see the pink-haired girl wave – and promptly vanish in a cloud of smoke. Arwen's eyes widened in alarm, but there was no time for concern over the girl. The Wraiths had reached the bridge. With a cry, Arwen dug her heels into the horses flank and shouted again to him in elvish. But this time the horse needed no spurring. As the first of the Ringwraiths reached the very middle of the bridge a sharp cry rang out – "Kai!"

A deafening explosion rent the air as a neat row of exploding tags – taped to the underside of the bridge – detonated simultaneously. Asfaloth bolted away from the noise and fire, while Arwen yelped and threw herself over Frodo to protect him from falling debris. There was a terrible screeching as one of the Wraiths was set alight, while another was borne by its mount - turned mad with fear and pain – straight into the river.

A dull thud sounded close beside her and in an instant the elf slid her sword free of its scabbard and swung.

"Oi!" Sakura yelped as she ducked, the blade swishing harmlessly over her head. Arwen looked gobsmacked – which is a rare and incredibly undignified expression for an elf – the girl was running along beside the horse as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Sakura simply looked disgruntled.

"Where…? How…?" the usually eloquent elf was speechless. "How did you _do_ that?"

"Forward planning," the ninja muttered. She glanced behind to see two of the Black Riders on the near bank of the river, having urged their horses through the water in the absence of a bridge. Damn, that hadn't worked as well as she'd hoped. The other two however, were further behind, one of which was still trying to put its robes out without getting washed downstream. She didn't doubt they'd catch up.

"Oi, elf," she called to Arwen, who darted her gaze between Sakura and the road, clearly unwilling to take her eyes off either. "Expect an ambush," Sakura continued grimly. Arwen clenched her jaw, but nodded sharply. Neither could quite suppress a shiver as the cry of a pursuing Wraith sounded out, shrill and cold. It was answered by another, unmistakeably from the depths of the trees ahead. Arwen caught her breath.

"They are waiting in the trees ahead," she breathed.

"Five of them," Sakura answered bluntly, not missing a step. Arwen looked to the girl then – she ran with her arms held stiffly behind her, head slightly ducked. She knew what the Wraiths were, and what they could do, and how many there were; and yet did not look afraid. Rather, she looked fierce and indomitable. Fixed firmly on the tree-line, Sakura's eyes burned with cold determination – right now, she was well and truly in 'ninja mode'.

"So, five ahead and four behind," Arwen stated, keeping her voice steady, "You have a plan, I take it?"

"Whatever you think you see, keep riding," Sakura warned the elf cryptically. "And think fast."

The trees grew steadily closer.

The road cut a more or less straight track through the small wood, with thick, dark trunks rising on either side. Here and there, resilient patches of grass rose among the roots, and above their heads the branches reached out for one another, cutting out large patches of the light. But the scenery was lost on Arwen as they charged under the canopy and into the dimness of the wood. Asfaloth's sides heaved with exertion, his flanks foaming with sweat. Frodo wasn't looking much different, with eyes wide and glazed and his skin so pale as to be almost green.

"He's getting worse," Arwen whispered, fearful for the hobbits life.

"They're getting closer," was the grim reply. "Concentrate on the road, and remember what I told you!" Then, suddenly, the space formerly filled with Sakura was empty and the girl was nowhere to be seen. Arwen looked about wildly for a moment, only to gather herself, and redirect her focus as the Ringwraiths again screamed behind her. Only, this time, there were more than one answering cry, and they came from all sides at once. Arwen's heart pounded, but she did not take her eyes from the road. The girl must surely be about to pull off another amazing feat but Arwen had no clue as to what she was supposed to be looking for.

Sunlight flashed in her eyes through the occasional breaks in the foliage, leaving spots in front of her vision as the light changed rapidly from dim to bright, dim to bright. But she couldn't afford to slow down and she had no hand free to shield her eyes. Arwen resolutely clenched her jaw and focussed on the ground in front of Asfaloth, mindful of the girls parting words. _'Concentrate on the road… Whatever you think you see, keep riding'._ Then, a glint; the barest glimmer of sunlight reflecting off…something. Momentarily startled, Arwen searched the ground for any hint of armour, weapons, anything that might indicate a Rider in wait, but found nothing. The ground glimmered again as she passed through another patch of light. And then she saw it.

A wire, so thin as to be nigh invisible to any eye less keen than an elf's, ran parallel to the road from tree to tree. Had her eyes not been down and the sun not come through when it did, she'd never have seen it at all. Which begged the question, how long had it been there? And more to the point, what was its purpose?

The shrill shout of a Nazgul drew her eyes up and around. Through the trees, it came crashing toward her, and she did not need to look around to know another, if not more, was closing in on the other side. Arwen's gaze dropped instinctively to the wire. On a whim, or perhaps instinct, she spurred Asfaloth forward again, only to turn him abruptly into the trees with a sudden shout for him to jump. The horse obeyed instantly, soaring over the wire.

The horse of the charging Nazgul was too large and heavy to turn as quickly, and its momentum too great. The Rider instead rode in a short arc onto the road and curved back into the trees again, picking up speed to catch the elf, while it's counterpart on the other side of the road kept to its course and simply galloped straight across. Or at least, that was what they expected to do. The horse on the near side hit the wire seconds before the far horse. The wire was pushed forward, and twanged against the exploding tags which were stuck to the backs of the tree trunks. They detonated. All along the road, the tags went off. Larger trees fell into the road, narrowly missing the Four following behind. Smaller trees exploded into wood chips and sharp shards of bark which set alight and rained down upon the Riders. The wood was a mess of flame and smoke and shrapnel. The horses panicked and reeled back. The Rider on the far side was thrown from its horse entirely as it reared up in fear.

The explosion was so loud that Arwen's sensitive ears were left ringing. She craned her neck back, searching for a spot of colour, fearful lest her companion had gotten caught in the explosion. Such was her distraction that she didn't even notice the ground falling away beneath her, 'til Asfaloth jerked to a halt on the very lip of the precipice. She cried out aloud in her shock and fear, seeing the ground suddenly drop away into a yawning chasm, its bottom lined with sharply pointed rocks. How was it possible? Her heart pounded and her head fairly swam at the height. Frantically she looked to either side but could see no way to get around it, and it was far too wide for Asfaloth to jump. Frantic fear seized her heart….

"Don't believe what you see! Ride forward!"

The girl's voice came from seemingly nowhere, and Arwen looked about for her wide eyed and trembling. Ride on? Was the girl mad? Could she not _see _the fissure?

"Whatever you think you see, _keep riding!_" came the voice again, louder and more commanding.

Arwen frowned – whatever she…_thought_…she saw? The ferocious pounding of hooves and furious screeching of the enraged and pained Ringwraiths bellowed out from the smoke. Arwen turned, looked upon them, and took the deepest breath.

"_Jump, Asfaloth,"_ she whispered.

The horse snorted and backed up a few paces. The Rider's burst from the smoke and trees. Asfaloth ran and leapt.

Arwen shut her eyes tightly, only to gasp as she felt Asfaloth land on the solid earth barely seconds later. She looked in wonder at the earth, twisting around to see the Riders and their mounts halted fearfully on the edge of absolutely nothing. The ground in front of them was whole, and bare of even a twig. Her eyes widened in wonder. It had been nothing more than an illusion. Had Sakura done that?

A smattering of leaves fell, brushing her arm and causing Asfaloth to shy, momentarily, jolting Frodo. The hobbit groaned painfully. And suddenly the space beside her was once again filled with pink-haired human girl. She looked annoyed.

"Didn't I tell you to keep going?" she snapped. "You wasted time – it won't hold them off for long. It only works on the horses and right now it looks like they are most scared by the things on top of them!"

Arwen had no time to reply. At that instant all nine Black Riders charged through the trees behind them, left and right of them, closing them in.

"Guess we found the other two," Sakura muttered, as they began to hem them in, one riding close enough to reach for Frodo. She snapped her head around and glared at it over Frodo's head.

"_**Shanarooooo**_" Sakura growled the word as she took a running slide under Asfaloth's legs and came up under the Nazgul's horse on the other side; a hand glowing with Chakra. The Rider swung its blade toward her, and she dived forward, slapping the horses legs out from under it as she went. She caught herself on her hands and snapped herself into a quick-fire sort of forward roll back onto her feet. Guilt sprung into her as the poor animal let out a cry of terror, falling in a painful tangle of limbs, but she resolutely pushed it back. This was no time for a conscience, and really, the poor thing should have started running away as soon as the explosions started.

She used the nearest tree as a springboard to draw level with Arwen again, and tossed kunai at the two Riders who had gotten close. The aim was poor but it had the desired effect. They fell back, and the dense spacing of the trees now forced them to adopt a two-per-row type formation. Unsure as to where the road was but not particularly caring if she ruined it; Sakura gathered chakra into her fist and dropped back behind Arwen's horse. Violently, she punched the ground, sending a wave of dust and earth away from her. The Wraiths scattered. Arwen looked back in awe as the ground shifted.

"Keep going!" Sakura's voice came over the smoke, and she once again spurred Asfaloth on in elvish.

"DUCK!" - Arwen barely registered Sakura's shout, before she threw herself over Frodo and buried her face in Asfaloth's mane. She felt the air whistle around her ears as something large flew overhead and landed with a deafening crash behind them. She sneaked a peak, wondering how Sakura had even gotten in front of her, and was stunned to realize that it had been an entire tree. Sakura landed deftly in the dirt beside the horse and continued running as if she'd never missed a step.

"Try to lose them," she panted.

Arwen nodded grimly, steering Asfaloth through the dense wood, weaving tightly between trunks and jumping fallen trees. From the corner of her eye she saw Sakura jump upwards and take to the treetops. Sakura was getting worried. She was never more thankful than now that she'd conserved her chakra. As it was, she was already using a steady stream of chakra to keep up her speed running, whilst simultaneously expending it in rapid bursts as she tried to hold back the Black Riders. Her traps had failed, and she couldn't use her techniques so effectively in near-constant motion - it was frustrating. They just kept coming back.

It occurred to her in the oddest of moments that Asfaloth must have incredible stamina for a horse. He'd been galloping near flat out almost this entire journey from river to river. The horse must be exhausted.

Arwen couldn't quite contain the cry of joy that sprang to her lips as the road ahead became bathed in light. The end of the forest was near. The ground began to slope downward toward the riverbank and even now she could hear the frothing waters of the Ford. She burst from the trees and charged downhill, aiming for the water. The river flowed fast and free through a steep canyon on the one side and away down to the plains on the other – the Ford itself was little more than a shallow swell where the banks and the river alike were shallow, and the River could be crossed. Asfaloth's hooves pounded down the dirt bank, slipping slightly in the mud, and finally with one great leap they were in the water, the spray soaking the horse's flanks and Arwen's dress. Asfaloth slowed as he reached the opposite bank, trotting calmly to the other side, and Arwen drew her sword as she turned to face the oncoming Wraiths. They were on _her _land now, and here she had more power than they knew.

The Nine crashed through the undergrowth. They halted their steeds as they reached the water – the horses heaving with exertion, foaming at their mouths and bellies, and turning their pitch coats grey.

There was no sign of Sakura. Agitated, her eyes searched the trees, to no avail.

"Give up the Halfling, she-elf." The Rider's guttural voice sent shivers down her spine. Arwen's voice carried across the river.

"If you want him, come and claim him!" Her eyes were determined as she held up her sword in defiance. In the crook of her arm, Frodo groaned pitifully, his eyelids fluttering. His condition worsened with every passing minute in the presence of these foul beasts, and she was acutely aware that he might already be beyond saving, for all the good that Sakura and Glorfindel's healing had done. The Nazgul flooded into the river.

Then, with a tremendous battle-cry, the pink-haired girl flew from the treetops in a graceful arc. Alarmed, Asfaloth took a few steps backward before Arwen calmed him. She watched in amazement as Sakura flipped herself over in mid-air and landed with cat-like grace on the water. _On_ the water. Arwen could clearly see the fish swimming below the girl's feet. Her hands were bristling with metal – wickedly sharp throwing stars, she would later find out – and the soles of her boots were glowing green. Sakura slid into a defensive stance, eyes flitting across the Nine as they moved further into the River. She smiled nastily as she noticed one hanging back – it had a dented breastplate. Oh good, someone remembered her.

"Sakura!" the elf called from the bank, and the ninja frowned to hear her name from this stranger's lips. She ignored her call, making a shooing motion over her shoulder. Arwen called again, telling her to get out of the River. Sakura frowned as she felt water around her ankles. Her feet hadn't moved, which meant her chakra hadn't failed, so what-? Arwen's voice echoed in the canyon, in a strange tongue that Sakura could only assume to be elvish. The chanting echoed, resounding over and over again into one disharmonious roar. And yet, that roar sounded less like voices and more like…water? Her eyes widened in realization – Arwen was flooding the river. Even as she thought it the water came crashing around the canyon wall, taking the form of charging white horses in the spray. In the seconds it took for Sakura to take in the flood, to acknowledge Arwen's frantic calls of both her and Frodo's names, and to take stock of the Nazgul fighting to get themselves and their terrified steeds out of the water, Sakura had made her decision.

"Arwen!" she shouted across the river, using the elf's name for the first time. "Take Frodo to your father. Go!"

And without further ado, she darted across the water, leapt over the Nazguls' heads to the opposite bank, and let loose her volley of shuriken. They screamed and clawed at their hoods, falling backwards into the flood. The horses screeched in pain, stumbling and falling. Punches and kicks flew, all but destroying the bank completely, driving them back over and over, until just one remained. Its armoured hands were digging into the mud to anchor it to the remains of the bank, its mount was lost…and its breastplate was dented. Sakura's face twisted into a grin.

"You and me mate," she whispered, and with chakra filled hands she seized hold of its hood and flung them both into the raging water.

…**and lost. Also known as: "In which Asfaloth is clearly the superman of horses."**

**No horses were actually harmed in the making of this chapter, though many came close, much to the distress of the horse-loving author.**

**To be continued…**

**For your benefit, changes (if they're not obvious) made to this chapter include:**

**Almost everything. In fact, apart from about 700 words or so it's all entirely new. **

**Also, 7000 words, that may just be a record in chapter length for me. Don't get your hopes up too high though; I suspect that this is a one off. :/**

**~Devi1OnUrShou1der~**


	10. Chapter Nine

**WhenInMiddleEarth:Theedited,revisedandface-liftededition:**

**When in Middle Earth, do as the Middle-Earthlings do. Sakura finds herself in the midst of Middle Earth, immersed in a war she has no part in, saving a world and people she doesn't know, and why? Because Naruto would be disappointed in her if she ever got back and told him she hadn't...**

_**Chapter Nine:**_

_**In which Sakura earns her keep**_

**Disclaimer:**

**The Lord of The Rings, it's associated characters and components are copyright and property of its author J. R. R. Tolkien, the actors that played them, and the director of the trilogy of films of the same name, Peter Jackson. The character Sakura and any components associated with the manga and anime 'Naruto' are property and copyright of Masashi Kishimoto**

**The story continues:**

* * *

Water pressed in on all sides; the raging torrent tore at her clothes, pounded her eardrums, blinded her eyes, and all the time bore her rapidly onwards down the river. Sakura felt her lungs burn, and only sheer, bloody minded determination stopped her from crying out as she was slammed against the rough boulders that made this section of the river one long, dangerous, white water rapid. The weight of the water was crushing. She had no idea how deep she was, or even if she was right-side-up. She couldn't see; she could hear only the roaring of the flood. The only thing she was sure of was the cloak twisted around her hands, and she clung to it like a limpet to a rock. Only the jerky, unnatural tugs on her arms told her that the creature within it was still fighting.

The familiar feeling of nausea washed over her as Sakura felt herself tumbled head over feet over head. Pain lanced through her side as something hard and small made sharp contact with her ribs, and she wondered if she hadn't been swept by a panicking, drowning horse, and gotten kicked. Her shoulder dragged along a rough, abrasive surface – another boulder, the riverbed; Sakura wasn't certain – but her skin warmed and stung, and she knew it was bleeding into the water. Her lungs screamed for air; the corners of her mouth trembled as she fought her instinct for control of her jaw. It was no use. She'd been under too long; she was going to have to take a breath…

The spiked armour, worn by the Wraith in her hands, dug painfully into her legs as the two were toppled one over the other. She hissed involuntarily, and then gagged as a stream of water swooshed into her mouth. She kicked out blindly, only to strike her knee on something solid. Without thinking too much about what she was doing, Sakura willed her chakra into her feet. The speeding water flipped her once, twice…and her foot struck bedrock. In that one moment, Sakura poured every ounce of her will into one almighty kick. Foot digging into the riverbed, the water flashed and lurched upwards as she launched herself toward the surface. The river surged and sprayed upwards like a fountain, as a plume of water rose from its depths – its spearhead a pink haired girl: eyes streaming and red, mouth spitting out water like it burned her.

She skidded as she landed on top of the river. The water was so turbid and fast moving that she couldn't stand still. Not to mention that the struggling Nazgul in her hold was throwing off her balance. She allowed the current to bear her down-river, half skating, half sliding across the surface of the churning water, until her feet found a suitably flat rock. Water washed over the top of it in surges, keeping her toes wet with each swell. But it was solid, and with her feet firmly planted on said solid rock, Sakura finally turned her attention to the matter, quite literally, at hand.

The Ringwraith was much less intimidating a creature with its cloak soaked through and clinging wetly to its armour – which creaked with every jerky, fretful movement it made. The fingers of its gauntlets were spiked, like claws, in some sort of black metal. It grasped at her; the spikes dug into Sakura's forearms, leaving deep welts and scratches, but her grip didn't falter.

Her knuckles were clenched white under her gloves – now damply plastered to her hands – and her fingers were beginning to go numb; but whether the coldness of the water, or the length of time they'd been curled up so tightly, she couldn't say. Her own cloak felt slightly choking as it hung limp from her neck, and she erupted in goose bumps as the wind blew over the wet, exposed skin of her shoulders, arms and knees. Her hair was darkened to near-magenta by the sheer amount of water in it, and cold drops fell uncomfortably down the back of her neck.

Panting slightly, Sakura regarded the creature. Aragorn had talked about these things like they were immortal, and she was beginning to see why. After all, so far _this _one had been punched into a pillar at a force that would break a neck, blown up, set on fire, pushed off a tower, blown up again, had everything from kunai to trees hurled at it, been dragged into a flood and practically drowned _and still wasn't dead_. Even up close, she could see nothing beneath its hood. It felt heavy, but it was the heaviness of a suit of armour and not of a living being, and Sakura was led to wonder if there was anything inside the cloak at all. And yet, she could clearly feel its fingers bruising her arms, so the armour at least was a solid form. And she'd hit _something _inside that hood before, atop Weathertop.

The creature struggled more violently, gauging deep cuts into her flesh with its clawed hands and releasing one of her arms to reach for her face, as if aiming to do more damage. She swiftly jerked her head back, twisting and snapping its wrist in a completely instinctual move as she spun around out of its reach. The abrupt change in momentum popped Sakura's ears, and she instantly wished that they hadn't. Even as water streamed out of her ears and down her neck, the creature screamed its shrill scream. Ears no longer blocked, Sakura's head pounded at the sound of it, and without thinking she released her hold to clamp her hands over her painfully sensitive ears.

The next moments slowed to almost snail-pace in Sakura's perception, as her waterlogged brain finally caught up with her actions. The Ringwraith pulled away from her, even as she realised her mistake and hurriedly snatched for it again. Her fingers snagged its cloak as it prepared to jump from the boulder, jerking it backwards – only to meet her other fist charged with chakra and swinging into its back. With a resounding SMACK the creature went flying across the river and skidded deep into the riverbank, leaving long skid marks in the shoal. At the same time, its armoured glove sheared off where she'd snapped its 'wrist' and the armour fell to the rock; empty metal.

Sakura spared a half second to take note of that, before she kicked the metal hand into the water and cleared the river in a single leap. Her feet sank into the bank as she landed; splatters of wet sand and mud spat up and covered her boots and knees; the shoal and soft silt covering her feet halfway to her ankle. The Nazgul was staggering to its feet. The orange light of the setting sun threw its dented breastplate into sharp relief – a reminder that immortal or no, they could still take damage. It was an encouraging thought. After all, if this one had survived then no doubt all eight of the others had too.

Sakura weighed up her opponent, sliding out a kunai and shifting into an offensive stance. The Wraith groped at its belt, and though it had no expression, Sakura could _feel _the smugness coming off it as it found that it still had a knife there, and that it had not been lost in the flood. The slow, dramatic way in which it pulled the long knife from its sheath would have been quite a lot more intimidating, Sakura felt, bemused; if water hadn't splashed over the sides of the sheath as it was unearthed, and if the blade itself hadn't been dripping water all over the ground. The amusement was taken out of it rather quickly however – Sakura recognised that style of weapon. A similar knife had been plunged into Frodo's shoulder six days ago and he was fighting for his life because of it. It was going to be a close-quarters fight, with an opponent that was near-impossible to kill and poisonous, generally evil weaponry at hand. Oh, and low chakra reserves to boot.

'**Right,' **thought Sakura grimly.** 'No problem.'**

The Nazgul held its knife easily in its left hand, and Sakura felt stupid for assuming that an unnatural creature of darkness would have an issue with such a thing as left or right-handedness. She glanced at its right arm – there was nothing there. The hollow tube of its armour simply stopped with a clean-cut end, and inside she could see nothing more than the same darkness that it wore under its hood. It was like the whole suit was empty. She thought back to the empty hand. It had screamed like it was in pain, when she'd broken it off, but there was nothing there that she could see. No blood, no flesh, _nothing_.

She was reminded, oddly enough, of Sasori. All hollow puppet limbs and nothing inside but chakra, and his heart in a box in his chest. What had Aragorn said about Ringwraiths?

"_They were men once, great Kings of men… But in their greed the nine rings, which answer to the One, overcame them, and they became slaves to its will... They are bound to the Ring…"_

If they were once men, then surely _something _must be left. Even Sasori wasn't invincible. Even if the only thing left of his humanity was his heart…But she didn't think the Ringwraith had a heart. If it had, surely there would have been some blood _somewhere_. And if that was the case, then what did that leave?

Nazgul and ninja stood a bare six feet apart, but neither moved to close the gap – both waited for the other to make the first move, to make the first mistake. Sakura watched as the Wraith carefully slid its foot back into a defensive position. So, it was to be a waiting game then. Sakura's eyes flitted over her enemy, taking in anything and everything she could use to her advantage.

Sakura lost patience first. She flicked out another kunai and, in quick succession, threw them both with unerring accuracy. The first sailed past the Ringwraith's hood, cleanly slicing the cloth as it jerked its head to the side a second too slow. The second kunai was aimed at its feet and the Nazgul had to do an awkward sort of half-jump to avoid it. And, with its stance well and truly ruined, Sakura darted forward. Her kunai clashed with its knife. Little sparks flew up as the blades dragged along each other, and Sakura quickly disengaged before her knuckles got too close to that poisonous metal. But the Wraith was a skilled knifeman, and followed quickly.

Duck. Parry. Swing, slice, slash. It went on and on. Sakura blocked a violent stab with the flat of her kunai, pushing the knife away from her face with her own weapon and going slightly cross eyed as she tried to focus on it – it was so close.

This was not, suffice to say, an ideal situation. Sakura needed a plan.

'**Think Sakura, **_**think**_**.'** Sakura tugged out another kunai and began to dual-wield in the hope of blocking a little better. She wasn't doing quite as well as she'd hoped with one-on-one close combat without chakra. Clearly she'd been neglecting her basics. She'd have to remedy that… as soon as she'd disposed of this nasty bastard.

'**If I was stripped of absolutely everything, what would I be? No flesh, no bones, no blood or guts or heart. What's left over when you strip away _everything_ else?'**

She wasn't religious enough to believe in souls, and the medic in her told her that chakra couldn't sustain itself without a body to keep it stable. Even Sasori had had to keep his heart going to support his chakra system in his puppet body. Did people here even _have _chakra?

At home, even civilians had chakra. They just couldn't _use_ it without ninja training – that was what the academy was _for._ Well, that and teaching impressionable young children the best way to kill someone without dying yourself. But nobody here knew what a ninja was – everything she did was a shock and a wonder to them. Clearly, there was no Middle Earth equivalent to chakra-training. Did that then mean that they simply hadn't discovered chakra use here? Or did they really just not have it at all?

A shrill 'Shiiiiiing' sounded out as the morgul blade met the crux of her two kunai, crossed defensively over her heart. Chakra-less fighting wasn't getting her anywhere. She might not have a lot left, but she could still tilt the odds a little bit. Sakura twisted her kunai, trapping the Wraith's weapon between them and pushing it down and away. Unable to let go of its knife, the Wraith was forced to follow. Her knee came up swiftly, enforced with the barest amount of chakra, and SLAM. It was bent nearly double as her knee hit it in the chest, in almost the exact same spot as the dent.

Sakura observed with a smirk as it staggered back – the dent was considerably wider and deeper. Good. She had a weak spot. She'd noticed that it used only its left hand, reinforcing her theory that without the armour it didn't have a corporeal form to use physically. So, in theory, she could just pull its armour apart and it wouldn't be able to do a thing…until it got new armour. And of course, that approach – while apparently painful – didn't seem to actually _kill_ it. Anyone else would have bled out if their hand was snapped off in the middle of nowhere. But how could she kill it if she didn't know what it _was_?

"…_They are bound to the Ring…"_ Aragorn had said. She looked at its hand. Was it possible that chakra, or some form of it, could be bound to an object? She could have kicked herself. Of course it could – the hidden villages had survived for years by sealing demons into objects. The sand village had sealed Shukaku into a frigging _teapot _before Gaara came along, for goodness sake. And she was supposed to be a damn genius. Clearly her brain was still waterlogged.

Nine rings given to the Kings of Men…So, she mused, as she resumed her defensive stance and waited for her opponents next move; working on the assumption that the Wraith was more or less just some sort of chakra and conscious, bound by one of the nine rings, could she kill it by separating it from its ring? In theory, that would sever the bond keeping its chakra stable and together, and without it the Thing would just fall apart. She'd already managed to break off one hand by sheer force – but doing so again meant bringing herself within uncomfortably close range of that knife, and one poisoned person was enough for the group to deal with already. Besides, she wasn't sure she trusted elven healers, assuming they even found her in time to save her. No, it was best to keep her distance. How then, was she to do it?

It was no good aiming for the armour – she had to be certain that it was the Wraith itself she was hitting. And the only way she knew of to attack chakra was with _more _chakra. Chakra; which she was in short supply of. Even soldier pills couldn't replenish chakra. They gave you a boost, nothing more.

Sometimes she really wished that she'd taken up katana-training. Tenten might have taught her – she was nice – and the girl was a weapons genius! _Sai _could have taught her, even if he _was_ a pain in the ass. A long reaching weapon would have been _great_ right about now.

The Ringwraith lunged for her. Sakura ducked under the blade and made to kick out at it, but the Wraith spun away faster than she'd anticipated. How was it that she was getting slower as she tired, while this thing was getting better? A glance around her told her the answer. This was a dark creature, less dangerous in the sunlight, and much more deadly at night – and dusk was already falling. It stabbed downwards and she only just managed to scramble out of the way, blocking with her kunai at the last second. Sakura let herself fall onto her back. The wraith was momentarily thrown off balance at the sudden loss of contact and she used that moment to curl her legs up, and kick forcefully against its stomach. It was without chakra, but it was strong – she wasn't a ninja for nothing. The Nazgul stumbled and fell back. Sakura flipped herself back onto her feet.

Without missing a step she launched forward, aiming to catch the creature off guard. She struck out with her kunai, but it blocked with its arm and angled its blade toward her. She quickly disengaged and tried to put some distance between them, but – too slow – Sakura got the distinct feeling that she'd just fallen into a trap. The poisonous metal dug into her forearm, close to the crease of her elbow. Her flesh burned; the whole joint felt aflame. She clenched her teeth in pain, nearly biting through her tongue.

But if she was poisoned, she wasn't poisoned for nothing. Jaw locked, she dropped her kunai and grabbed the Wraiths shoulder so tightly that she could feel her fingers bruising against the hard metal. She spun on her heel and jerked the creature around with her, using her momentum to fuel the motion of her left hand, charged with chakra, as she brought it slamming into the dent in the Wraith's chest. The force was so great that the already weakened metal stood no chance. The chest-plate warped and fractured under her knuckles. It burst inwards, and her fist continued through it. The sharp, broken edges gouged deep wounds as her arm passed through, embedding her hand within the Ringwraiths chest. But the wounds were nothing compared to what that hand experienced.

Her skin _burned _with cold. Every nerve she had screamed out in pain and it felt like her very blood was freezing. She cried out in agony, and her chakra released uncontrollably. It veered outwards from her hand in random, undirected bursts – like lightening it sheered away, coursing through the Ringwraith's body in a matter of milliseconds, ripping it apart from the inside out. The Nazgul's cloak was sliced into tatters as the chakra left it, and within it she felt her glove do the same. Its scream was terrible. It struck her eardrums like a knife – the only thing to break through the pain she was feeling. In the last moments before the Wraiths armour shattered and fell, Sakura summoned enough will to clench her frozen knuckles around the edge of the hole. She felt her skin crack and split, spilling chilled blood all over her hand.

Just as the pieces began to fall, Sakura summoned the last dregs of her chakra, poured every fibre of her being into willing it into shape, and brought her right hand – stiff from the poison but glowing with a shaky chakra scalpel – down across the armoured fingers of the Wraith's left hand. They severed and fell with a series of clinks. The scream faded away, the cloak fell in ribbons to the ground and the armour landed with a dull thud, splintered and broken.

Sakura crumpled. Her right arm was pale and her fingers were shaking. But her left hand – the hand that had been _inside_ the Ringwraith – that was blackened and dead looking. Blood and a watery sort of pus were seeping from the cracks across her knuckles and the whole thing felt simultaneously like it was freezing and burning. She whimpered in agony, and a heavy feeling of despair set like a weight on her shoulders as she realised that she had no chakra left to heal herself with. Already the signs of severe chakra depletion were setting in – nausea, light-headedness – though those could just have easily been from the pain. Sakura had never been in so much pain in her life – not even when she'd been hit by Naruto in Kyuubi-form had it hurt this much.

In the back of her fuzzy, pain-laden mind, Sakura knew that she was probably miles downstream and far from help. She didn't know where the other eight enemies were, and she was as good as a sitting duck here. She had no more arms to use, no more chakra, and she was poisoned. So, she had two choices – sit here and wait to fall unconscious, or get up and start walking back in the vain hope of survival. It was unlikely that she'd be found, and even less likely that she'd get far enough to stand a chance of it.

But she was a ninja. She'd had survival instincts drilled into her head since age five. Even in the face of insurmountable pain, she couldn't bring herself to sit there on her knees and wait to die.

Such was the 'Will of Fire' that the ninja of Konoha prided themselves on. Sakura's knees shook, and it took her several attempts to stand again. Her arms hung useless and bleeding at her sides and she fell many times as she staggered back upstream. She didn't know how long it was before the black spots began to swim in front of her eyes, and her brain began to feel like someone had wrapped it in cotton wool. She pressed on, at times all but crawling and all the time trying desperately to stay awake.

At first she thought that the blurred black shape was just another sign of her failing conscious. But, as she drew slowly nearer, she was able to make out the body of a black horse laid half in the water, and half on the bank. Its leg was twisted at an unnatural angle – likely broken, and blood bubbled around its mouth. She wondered detachedly if this had been the one that had kicked her. She let herself fall at its head, gut twisting amid her own agony to see that the animal was still alive, and dying slowly.

"_**I wonder if it hurts as much for you as it does for me**_," she mused in her own language, in the faraway sort of voice that showed that her consciousness was failing fast. With great effort, she stretched out her hand to touch its head, letting her body lean heavily against its side.

"_**You and me both**_," she murmured, as if half asleep, "_**I'm sorry**_."

She searched for some last dreg of chakra, somewhere, anywhere within her. She placed her hand flat against the horses head, and tried to will a little spark from her hand, if only to stop the suffering. But the blackness and the faintness overcame her at last, and without knowing whether or not it had worked Sakura finally fell into the blissfully pain-free realm of unconsciousness.

* * *

Aragorn and Glorfindel led the party at as fast a pace as the short legged hobbits could manage. They had yet to see or hear any sign of the Nine, though they had heard their shrill calls, and deafening explosions ahead. They weren't certain what worried them more – the fact that they had started, or the fact that they had stopped. All was silent when they reached the bridge, and it was there that the trail of destruction began.

There was no bridge. The wooden supports were splintered and cracked, standing at crooked angles either side of the river. Some debris was scattered about the banks, but the majority of what once was a wide and well-used bridge was now missing entirely. The entire area smelt of smoke and burning wood, and there were scorch marks on the road. Or what little was left of it. The road from the bridge was shattered and a deep fissure stretched across it.

The group were forced to walk farther upstream to find a place shallow enough that Bill could cross it with his short pony's legs. The hobbits were piled unceremoniously atop Glorfindel's grey horse, and while squashed together quite uncomfortably, remained well above the water, which would easily have reached their armpits if they'd attempted the crossing on foot. Glorfindel led them across, while Aragorn came behind with Bill. They picked their way carefully, but even the elf slipped on one occasion, and by the time they reached the other side both Aragorn and Glorfindel were wet up to their waists.

They looped back to the road, but what lay ahead was no more comforting. The road was littered with hoof prints, and as they reached the tree line they were forced to leave the track and pick their way around scores of fallen and splintered trees. In places the trunks were enormous and blocked the road entirely. Again, the smell of smoke and burning paper was in the air, and when Pippin tripped and fell quite roughly on his face, they discovered that thin wires stretched between some of the trunks and made a spider web across the path. At one point it became clear that the marks of the horses left the road and veered into the forest. Aragorn was sorely tempted to follow them, but Glorfindel reminded him of their haste and the need to get the hobbits to safety, and they reluctantly stuck to the road.

For a time they saw nothing more of the passage of Frodo before them. Dusk drew in. They came to the Ford at last, only to stop in amazement to see the river flooded and impassable. It stretched wider than it had ever been, and yet the soft wet ground reached to some feet above the waterline, as if to show that the river had recently been yet higher still. A little farther downstream a black shape could be seen – the bulky body of a dead horse, dashed against the rapids. Water flowed over and around the sad sight. On the side of the river that they stood on, they found sharp star-like metal objects, deeply embedded in the trees and ground.

Aragorn guessed their origin and spared a moment to carefully gather them, mindful that their owner may yet need them. Even as he did so, Glorfindel waded carefully out into the river, stopping when the water reached his belt. Just as he turned to tell them that it was too deep to cross, a strange, bell like sound came down from the valley. The water increased its speed; a wave formed and washed itself away downstream, leaving the river behind it low and slow moving. Glorfindel found himself suddenly no more than ankle deep, and the party hurried across lest the water return.

In the soft earth on the opposite side they found just one set of tracks – a single horse, laden but fast moving. It gave them hope like nothing else the group made haste for Rivendell. Aragorn's heart leapt with joy to see Arwen awaiting them at the gate. He ran forward to meet her and heedless of propriety, he embraced her tightly, murmuring relieved, loving words in elvish. But she was tense and troubled as she had never been in his arms, and he worriedly withdrew.

"_What is wrong Arwen? Please tell me that it is not too late for Frodo,_" his eyes flitted anxiously between hers, alarmed to see her looking so pale. The hobbits did not understand what was being said, but they saw the expressions of their faces and heard the name 'Frodo'. Frightened, they begged Arwen to tell them if he was alright, cutting off anything she might have said in reply to Aragorn. She seemed to swallow before she spoke, as if it was hard for her to do so.

"Frodo is safe," she began in the common tongue, voice thick with worry, "He is with my father as we speak. He told me that he expects that he shall make a full recovery, with enough time." The hobbits cheered to hear this, but Aragorn was silent. Something was terribly, terribly wrong, and with a feeling like a lead weight dropping into his stomach, he realised who was missing from the welcoming party.

"Arwen, where is Sakura?"

Her eyes were wide and her mouth turned down, her face pale. "I don't know," she whispered. "She hasn't returned."

Aragorn went white.

"No," he whispered hoarsely, "It cannot be."

Arwen looked at him fretfully and helplessly.

"I saw her pull a Ringwraith into the flood, I…She told me to take Frodo. I thought she would follow, but she…she hasn't come back."

Without another word Aragorn spun away from her. In a quick movement he'd snatched the reins from Glorfindel's hand and mounted the dappled horse, spurring it without a word back toward the river. He heard the hobbits call out behind him, but he paid them no heed.

His heart was heavy, and pounding within his chest. He had promised her that he would not abandon her.

Like a ghost in the dark he rode downstream. His eyes strained against the deepening night, flitting from one side of the river to the other and sweeping every expanse of water in between. He came across the bodies of horses, littered about the river-banks like abandoned rubbish. A cloak floated in the shallows and was crushed underfoot. The ground was muddy and soaked – the plants bent flat in the aftermath of the torrent of water that had passed.

At long last, the glimmer of something pale caught his eye on the other side of the river. Heedlessly, he urged the horse onward, splashing through the deep water to the shoal bank. He found her collapsed, unconscious, between the legs of a dead horse. Its eyes were wide and glassy under her outstretched hand, but he found that he had no eyes for the animal. Sakura looked frail and broken. Her cloak was soaked through and matted with blood and dirt. Her skin was as white as chalk, and dappled with bruises. Her breathing was so shallow that he could barely feel it even with his hand pressed to her mouth. Her pulse was feeble at best.

Aragorn could not see it in the gloom until he lifted her, but when he did his breath caught in horror. Her cloak fell away as she was moved, revealing arms that were covered with blood – each bore deep lacerations the length of her forearm. A deep wound in the crease of her elbow, he recognised as the wound of a morgul blade – the same as Frodo's – and his heart clenched with worry. But what truly made him despair was the sight of her left hand.

At first, he was horrified to think that she had lost her arm completely – but the truth was much worse. Sakura had not lost her arm, but it was as black as pitch, deadened and dry. The skin had cracked, and pus oozed from it in thick rivulets and crusted orange around the open wounds, where it mixed with her blood and congealed. He felt sick to look at it.

She was so light in his arms; it was like carrying a child. Why had he let her go so recklessly? He felt wretched with grief. He handled her like she was made of glass, carrying her carefully and picking his steps so as not to jostle her already weak and battered body. He reached a dilemma when he at last stood again beside his mount. How was he to get Sakura and himself into the saddle, without doing her further damage?

But the elf mount, as if sensing his problem, carefully lowered itself to its knees before him. In wonder, Aragorn thanked it quickly in elvish, even as he carefully stepped astride it and settled into the saddle with the injured girl across his knees. The horse eased itself to its feet again, and with near-unnatural fluidity it took off at a smooth gallop, as if it knew the need for haste. Aragorn found that he did not need his hands to direct it, instead speaking to it in elvish when he felt it was needed, and otherwise murmuring fretfully to the girl he held, begging her to hold on in every language he knew.

* * *

**Completely new chapter: All new, never before seen content.**

**I have often wondered about how one goes about killing a Ringwraith – we know that Eowyn kills the Witch King after all, but I have to wonder if that whole 'No man can kill me' bit just applies to him or whether it's a general stipulation for all of them. Can you kill them at all?**

**This is my take on it: Yes, provided that you are Wonder Woman. Or maybe Minerva McGonagall (They are more or less the same person, let's face it)**

**If you are not Wonder Woman, you will just have to make do with being a ninja or a shield-maiden of Rohan. You should probably be a woman, just in case. The author does recommend, however, that you don't make killing Ringwraiths a habit, as side effects tend to include grievous bodily harm. Very, very grievous bodily harm. The author also recommends doing it Eowyn's way – its much less messy than sticking your hand inside a Nazgul, though the grievous bodily harm still applies.**

…**and then there were eight.**

**~Devi1OnUrShou1der~**


	11. Chapter Ten

**WhenInMiddleEarth:Theedited,revisedandface-liftededition:**

**When in Middle Earth, do as the Middle-Earthlings do. Sakura finds herself in the midst of Middle Earth, immersed in a war she has no part in, saving a world and people she doesn't know, and why? Because Naruto would be disappointed in her if she ever got back and told him she hadn't...**

_**Chapter Ten:**_

_**In which grievous bodily harm is quite grievous indeed. Also in which Sakura discovers a use for Hobbits**_

**Disclaimer:**

**The Lord of The Rings, it's associated characters and components are copyright and property of its author J. R. R. Tolkien, the actors that played them, and the director of the trilogy of films of the same name, Peter Jackson. The character Sakura and any components associated with the manga and anime 'Naruto' are property and copyright of Masashi Kishimoto**

**The story continues:**

There is a state of being which exists between sleeping, and waking, and is not quite either. In this state, the body sleeps, but the mind has jumped the gun. The mind is awake; and long before the rest of the body catches up the brain is cataloguing every sound, every texture, every feeling of its surroundings that it can. It is a probably a defence mechanism; a survival instinct left over from wilder times, when people still lived in trees and grunted.

It is in this middle-ground between conscious and unconscious, that dreams become solid: A dream about a singing monkey becomes the alarm clock, and the duvet scrunched up in your arms; a dream about meeting and marrying your perfect man turns into a passionate embrace with your pillow; and a dream about marshmallows…well, we all know how that one goes.

For Sakura, there was no dream. There was only darkness, and warmth, and comfortable ignorance. And then, slowly into her oblivious world came an obnoxious, repetitive sort of noise. The warmth that coated her arms became hotter, and pricklier, until it was much less like comfort and much more like pain, and it concentrated itself in the crux of her elbow and throbbed. The darkness lightened to a dull red, and then a bright red, until Sakura could take the sun on her eyelids no longer, and opened her eyes.

She opened them blearily, wincing and blinking rapidly as the bright sunlight shone through the window and straight into her face. Her whole body felt heavy, sore and aching. Her joints felt stiff, and she couldn't feel her left arm at all. Carefully, she turned her head; feeling a bit like her brains would all tip to the side and fall out of her ears if she did it too quickly. Her fears were laid to rest when she saw that the arm was still attached firmly to her shoulder. It was, however, completely numb, and wrapped up like a mummy right down to the tips of her fingers. She flexed them experimentally. They curled, but the bandages over her knuckles suddenly became damp and red. She looked at it in shock – she hadn't even felt a twinge. Carefully, she spread her fingers again and laid the arm back down on the bed, disconcerted by the sudden, numb bleeding.

Her right arm bore a bandage tightly wound around her elbow – she'd been stabbed there, she remembered with a grimace. The wound felt like it was pulsing and made her feel ill to concentrate on it too much. The gashes in her right arm were bathed, and dressed, and periodic lumps under the fabric told her that some of them had been deep enough to need stitches. Her muscles felt stiff and tight, and looking at her fingers, she noticed that her hand was blotchy and purple with bruises.

As anyone waking up in a strange place will tell you, it is a disconcerting experience, and three questions invariably pop into your head as soon as you wake up. Sakura was no exception and even as she took stock of her treated wounds, the questions: 'Where the heck am I?' 'How did I get here?' and 'What happened?' each ran through her head.

Her ribs hurt when she tried to sit up, and in any case she couldn't support her weight on her arms, so Sakura resigned herself to lying on her back and assessing her situation as best she could from her prone position.

She was alone. She was in a room, specifically in a bed. Her clothes were missing; but she didn't feel cold – the bed was piled high with thick blankets. It was a very comfortable bed, with crisp white sheets and neatly folded corners. She peeked under the bedclothes and saw that she'd been left in her undergarments, but that her ribs were strapped and bound. Broken ribs then, she mused, wondering if she would find a horse-shoe-shaped bruise under the wrappings.

The walls of the room were exposed wood, and polished, and the whole room had a distinctly hospital-esque feel to it. The window was wide, without glass, and was framed by wooden shutters, and through it came the chattering of birds and the crisp smell of a cool morning.

Fresh air, Sakura mused. It carried with it the scent of leaves and dew that Sakura normally associated with Konoha. For a moment her heart gave a foolish little flutter, before logic ruthlessly stomped it down. She couldn't be home. Sakura looked again at the room, face twisting in pain as the muscles of her neck and shoulders protested movement. Adjusting her position as best she could, Sakura concluded that she must be in Rivendell. But who had found her, and brought her here, Sakura couldn't even begin to guess.

Which brought her to the next item on the mental checklist: What happened?

She ran through her memories as if trying to check that they were all still there.

The chase through the forest – her use of clones to allow her to go ahead and set traps – and Arwen flooding the river. The Wraith with the dented breastplate - she'd pulled it into the flood. And then the battle that took place on the banks of the river: she'd figured out a weakness and how to overcome it; the wraith tricked her into coming within range of its poisoned blade and it had struck her; she'd managed to use that to her advantage. The horrifying agony she'd experienced when her hand was inside the Wraith, and finally the burst of chakra that killed it.

Sakura looked over herself as she went through it all, mentally ticking off the dressed wounds. So, somewhere between falling unconscious and now, somebody had found her and brought her to this room; where somebody had then cleaned her, stripped her and bandaged her up. Rather professionally, she noticed, and examined her left hand with some consternation. The bandages across the back of her hand were bloody and stained a little orange with what she could only assume was pus. That wouldn't do.

She made to move her right hand across her left, only to flinch violently before she'd even moved it as far as her stomach. Her muscles spasmed and she abruptly turned her head and bit the pillow to stop herself crying out in pain.

Right. Poison. Sakura's jaw clenched. With pained determination, she moved her arm inch-by-inch across herself, her elbow feeling like it was on fire. Her jaw was so tight shut as to make her teeth ache and by the time her hand had reached the other side of her body, her fingers were trembling.

_'**Bloody ****hell****' **_Sakura thought, swallowing a whimper. Frodo put up with this for six days? It felt like her arm was burning off! And _she _was a ninja – she was supposed to be used to pain!

At last she managed to manoeuvre onto her side, with her palm covering her bloodied knuckles. The skin of her left hand was ice-cold to the touch and she shivered at the feel of it under her aching right. Exhaling slowly, Sakura summoned her chakra to her fingers and-

-and there was nothing. She reached for her chakra, but it bent away from her will, twisting like a snake out of her grasp; utterly unusable. Her eyes widened in shock. What was wrong with her chakra? It had never done that before!

Worrying her lip between her teeth, Sakura closed her eyes and concentrated. She breathed deep, reined in her focus and turned it within herself. She visualised a gentle wave pulsing through her chakra pathways – clearing them and replenishing them like water through a tunnel – and slowly let the breath out. Her chakra resisted – it was a feeling like pushing against thick glue. Her eyes squeezed together as she sucked in a breath and _pushed_. A violent twang snapped through her body, only to stop and rebound abruptly at the junction of her left shoulder. Knocked breathless and in pain, Sakura collapsed onto her back, eyes wide and wild with panic.

Her skin prickled with pins and needles in the aftermath of the chakra-backlash. Sakura stared up at the ceiling, face frozen in a look of horror.

She couldn't use her chakra. _She __couldn__'__t __use __her __chakra!_

Her chakra was _there_, her reserves well replenished, but she couldn't control it. It simply lay under her skin, twisting and coiling, erratic and unbendable. The chakra paths in her left arm seemed to be blocked or – she gulped – gone, dead, _destroyed_. She couldn't tell.

Unseeing, her eyes went glassy, vacantly staring at the ceiling while her throat felt like it was closing up. Her breathing began to become harsh and short; quick pants that shook her frame. On some level medic-Sakura was aware that hyperventilating was a very bad way to go. The majority of her, however, was busy panicking.

"_Daro __i!__" _a voice barked suddenly in elvish.

Her head snapped to the side.

Glorfindel stood in the doorway. In his hands was a wide shallow bowl and several lengths of linen were draped over his arm – clearly he was here to change her dressings or some such thing. But Sakura didn't register that. She looked at him wild-eyed, and tensed. Brow deeply furrowed, the elf stepped towards her, recognising clearly the signs of panic, bordering on hysteria. But what had alarmed the girl so he could not begin to guess. He placed his free hand atop the crown of her head, and she flinched away with her hands clenched in fists. He held her still; his other holding her shoulder. Sakura struggled as he murmured something else in elvish. She didn't understand, but her muscles began, involuntarily, to relax. She immediately resisted the sensation.

"Breath deep," he instructed, "Calm yourself."

"_Calm_ myself!" she near screeched. "I can't use my chakra! What the _hell _have I got to be bloody _calm_ about?"

The elf frowned at her uncomprehendingly. "Chakra? What is chakra?"

"Something which I have been able to use all of my life," she all but snarled at him, "and which is a vital part of me. I can no longer use it. And I repeat: That is _nothing _to be calm about!"

She glared at him, anger taking the place of her fear.

"Why are you here?" She lashed out suddenly, as he moved toward her bed. It was an accusatory question.

Glorfindel did not change his expression. He had been expecting more hostility from her.

"I have come to monitor the progress of your wounds, and to change the dressings as necessary," he told her in a detached voice. To this she gave no reply, only a short huff of acknowledgement. After all, she could hardly do those things herself, now; she thought bitterly.

Sakura watched the elf resentfully as he lifted first her right arm, unwrapping first the elbow to examine her poisoned flesh. Much like Frodo's, the gash was deep and narrow. The edges looked burned – but it was the bright red of skin after sunburn, rather than the seared flesh she'd seen on Weathertop. Though the edges looked peeled and tough, Glorfindel appeared approving. She took that to mean it was healing. He performed what she could only assume was more elvish healing – placing his hand flat against the skin and muttering what sounded like a spell or a blessing of sorts. He then applied a strange-smelling salve to the wound and re-wrapped it with a clean bandage. The long cuts in her forearm met with a similar result, and the elf spent a few moments carefully flexing and kneading her arm. Privately Sakura nodded to herself, reluctantly accepting his claims of being a high-class healer. Physiotherapy – he knew what he was doing. Her muscles could atrophy if she spent too long bedridden and without exercise – they were already pretty stiff…

"How long has it been?" she asked, the thought suddenly occurring to her. Glorfindel glanced up at her face.

"You have been unconscious for three nights and two days. In all honesty we expected you to remain so for many more."

She merely grunted in response.

After much testing, during which he carefully watched her response, Glorfindel finally put down her arm and moved to the left side of the bed. He frowned to see the red-stained cloth over her knuckles and immediately set to peeling the bandages away. Sakura grimaced to look at it. Her arm looked awful.

It would have looked dead if the skin weren't cracked and oozing blood and gunk all over her lovely white bed-sheets. It was black and the skin was crusty and dry – like a withered tree root. The scratches that she'd obtained during the fight marred the flesh like the cracks of an earthquake, and they were glued together by crusted, dry pus. A neat little row of spots ran parallel to one of them – she could only guess that somebody had tried to stitch this arm too, without success. The condition continued up her arm and above her elbow, with the skin of her upper forearm whole, but pale, dry and flaky.

Glorfindel examined her hand and prodded the skin around her knuckles. He glanced at her for a reaction, but she felt nothing. Her hand currently resembled a sausage that had burst its skin in the frying-pan, and Sakura couldn't feel a thing. Displeased, the corners of his mouth tightened. In silence, he retrieved a damp cloth from a basin by the wall. Somewhat surprised – the basin and pitcher were out of Sakura's field of vision – she let him lift her hand toward him and clean away the blood.

"Frodo recovers," Glorfindel spoke suddenly, breaking the tense silence as he fetched a shallow bowl and filled it with a clear concoction. He encouraged her to move her injured hand to the bowl and had her bathe it for some minutes.

Sakura stared at the ceiling and grunted again.

"I'm so very happy for him,' she muttered.

* * *

It was a perfect angsting night. The moon and stars were obscured by cloud, the air was heavy with the promise of rain, and there wasn't a light in sight. It was the perfect setting for brooding. Sasuke would have appreciated it.

Sakura swallowed the egg in her throat and stared at the ceiling. Glorfindel had left several hours ago, and she had refused food, desiring to be left entirely alone. Sakura didn't want to talk to curious men or hobbits or elves. She didn't want to relive the gory details of her fight with the Ringwraith, or hear people exclaiming over her injuries. She didn't want to see the pity in their eyes. Unconsciously she clenched her fists, and was unaware of her scabbing knuckles beginning once more to leak.

She didn't care that the poisoned arm was hurting – at least she could _feel_that arm. She glanced to the left and with a curse released her fist. Her teeth began to grind almost of their own accord. Her mind went bitterly to her earlier thought. She wouldn't know what Sasuke would appreciate, because he was still gallivanting around with his little group that kept changing names.

'_**Stupid **_**names****'**, her inner voice said petulantly. It was a painful thought and one that she knew better than to probe, but Sakura was in something of a masochistic mood. What did it really matter anyway, if Sasuke preferred his new team to his old one? She thought this to herself over and over again – even if the wizard was here, even if this 'Gandalf' character _could _send her home – what did she have to go home to? She had one arm that she couldn't feel, and which she couldn't move without re-opening. She had another that would recover (_"__Mostly,__" __Glorfindel __told __her_) but unusable chakra. No chakra meant no jutsu. In other words, _no __more __missions._Sakura couldn't be a ninja without it. She couldn't even defend herself without it – she'd shown that when she'd gotten herself stabbed. Her eyes were burning with unshed, bitter tears. No more treetop races with Naruto; no more training with Tsunade; no more healing…not even silly competitions with Ino, anymore. She wouldn't be able to smack Sai halfway across Konoha for his 'ugly' comments. She wouldn't be able to help Naruto bring Sasuke back.

The last blow of the Nazgul could not have been more bitter.

She didn't even have her weapons. Her trap-wire was lost in the Trollshaws, her shuriken were lost in the river and those remaining in her pack were AWOL ever since the elves had stripped her. Glorfindel had permitted her a short tunic designed for sleeping in, only to ward off the chill, but it was open fronted and held together only by a slim tie, since the medic needed to reach her ribs. He wouldn't tell her what they had done with her clothes or her gear.

He wouldn't tell her much at all. She'd been awake and abed for a grand total of 14 hours and she already hated it. She already new she was useless without her chakra; she didn't need to be reminded of it by being forbidden to leave her bed. Just lying around alone and doing nothing about her situation was driving her crazy; but the idea of lying around in company made her blanch. Sakura couldn't stand the thought of being weak – it had become almost a complex over the years.

_'**But ****what ****can ****you ****do ****now?**_**_'_ **was her last thought, and with it she descended into unhappy dreams.

* * *

There were voices talking. Two of them, to be exact.

This was not what Sakura wanted to hear first thing upon waking, for two very important reasons: One; she had _specifically_asked Glorfindel to tell people that she wasn't having visitors. (_'__Just __tell __them __that __I __need __to __rest __or __something. __It__'__s __technically __not __lying__'_ had been her exact words.) And two; the voices belonged to Merry and Pippin. They were whispering. Or rather, they were _attempting_to whisper, and were in fact 'whispering' just loud enough to be heard by everything within the mile.

"Merry, I think she moved. Is she awake do you think Merry?"

"Shush Pip," Merry shushed loudly, "She will be awake if you keep up that racket."

"I'm not making a racket," Pippin began to object, but:

"You are _both _making a racket, and since you are giving me a headache, I would dearly appreciate it if you would both _shut __up_," Sakura growled without opening her eyes.

She heard them both gasp softly, and figured that they hadn't actually expected her to be awake or to speak. There was a muted fumbling, and the scrape of a chair, and the room fell silent. Sakura gave a minute, half expecting them to launch into a passionate tirade on food or something equally daft, but they were completely quiet. She cracked open an eye.

They were sat in straight-backed wooden chairs, by her bedside. Both seemed to be sat on the very edge of their seats; wide-eyed with worry, hands pressed to their knees and mouths tight-shut.

She let out a resigned sigh and opened her eyes properly.

"Fine. You may talk now. _Quietly_," she added quickly as Pippin opened his mouth. He sagged a little.

"Are you alright Stranger?" the little hobbit whispered.

"How do you feel?" whispered Merry at the same time.

Sakura considered this.

"A bit like I was swallowed by a giant toad, chewed up, digested a bit, and belched back out again," she confessed. "Or alternatively, like I stuck my hand inside a Ringwraith and nearly killed myself."

The hobbits looked suitably horrified and impressed by this revelation.

"A Ringwraith!" they shouted in unison, only to guiltily drop their voices again when she winced violently. The noise did nasty things to her eardrums.

"You fought a Ringwraith?" Merry hissed quietly. "_Alone_?"

"I _have_ done that before," she reminded them a little testily. "And technically I fought all nine," she added without thinking.

The hobbits' shocked faces went unseen as Sakura engrossed herself in checking that all her limbs were still firmly attached. Glorfindel had mentioned last night that if her left arm continued to show no improvement, then the best option may be to amputate. Sakura had told him in as many words, that if he amputated her arm, then she would amputate his head. The matter had not been brought up again.

She glanced up again to see the hobbits looking shell-shocked and rolled her eyes irritably.

"What did you think was going to happen when we galloped off with Frodo? That we'd just go for a jog?" she sneered unkindly. She wasn't much in the mood for small talk, or for revisiting the source of her current state of ninja-less-ness. Pippin's eyes zeroed in on her bandaged up arms and she instantly cut him off.

"Ho no, matey," she growled, "If you just came here for a story then you can both leave now. I'm not going there."

He shrank back into his seat. "I'm sorry," he said guiltily. "I've upset you again. I didn't mean to." He looked so contrite and guilty that Sakura's conscience gave her a swift kick in the gut.

"It's fine," she muttered, looking away. For a while the silence stretched out like an uncomfortably thick blanket. It was Merry that finally ventured to break it.

"We thought you might like to know what's been going on," he offered. He shifted uncomfortably when she fixed her attention on him. "I mean, since you've been in bed and all?"

"Yeah, that's fine I guess," she mumbled, not particularly wanting company but neither wanting to encourage them too much. She'd be much happier left to brood over her current situation.

The hobbits brightened.

Sakura suddenly had the sinking feeling that she should say goodbye to her eardrums.

* * *

"And then he went white as a sheet-"

"-like he'd seen a ghost-"

"-and steals Glorfindel's horse off him right then and there!"

"Snatched the reins and galloped off to find you!"

Pippin punctuated his final sentence with a swift sweeping gesture – presumably to imitate Aragorn's sudden snatch. Merry nodded along, not in the least fazed by Pippin's interruptions. They'd been telling her about their own journey to Rivendell – after all, she had missed two whole days worth of happenings and absolutely _must_ be informed of them all without delay. So far she'd found out that Aragorn had barely left her bedside except to check on Frodo or to lock himself up in a room with Gandalf and 'Lord Elrond' to discuss who-knew-what; that Frodo's relative had been discovered staying here and that a whole motley crew of people were expected to begin arriving in the coming weeks. Right now, however, the two hobbits were in the midst of describing Aragorn's dark daring dash to find her, having more or less worked backwards through the news.

"It was _hours _before he came back," sighed Pippin dramatically.

"It _seemed _like hours," Merry corrected with a sniff. "It can't have been really." Pippin looked very much like he wanted to argue the point.

Finally sensing an opportunity to get a word in edgeways however, Sakura wasn't about to let the opportunity go. With a deep sigh, she butted in.

"Not that I haven't appreciated the company and the news, boys," – and, surprisingly, she wasn't being _entirely_ sarcastic – "but, why are you here?"

Their faces fell.

"I mean, not with Frodo?" she amended, feeling just a tiny bit guilty as she finally remembered the conversation she'd overheard in the woods. Hobbit loyalty was a strange thing, she thought.

"Well, he's been spending a lot of time with Bilbo you know, since he woke up…and well, since we heard how you helped get him here…and what happened…and Weathertop too…" Merry began, fidgeting. He seemed to realise that he was rambling and flushed, "We, that is to say, Pippin and I, well we just wanted you to know that we're grateful." He smiled at her a little unsurely.

"I…see," she said somewhat nonplussed.

Pippin leaned forward eagerly. "And if there is anything at all that _we _can do for _you _Miss Stranger, we'd be happy to," he babbled happily, "We owe you a great debt you know, and hobbits always settle their debts."

Sakura was about to tell them that she doubted that they could help her with anything worth bothering about; or that they could help by leaving her alone to sleep; but at the last minute something occurred to her. Perhaps it had been Merry's story about the Barrow Downs that had put the thought in her head ("_That__'__s __where __we __got __the __swords __from_"), or maybe even Pippin's innocently delivered news (_"__Gandalf __is __here __Stranger, __you __might __be __able __to __go __home __soon!__"_) but Sakura was inspired.

"Actually," she mused slowly, looking over the hobbits, "There might be something you _can _help me with."

* * *

Sakura was sneaking. It was significantly more difficult than she remembered it being.

For starters, she was on the ground – without chakra her favoured method of ceiling-travel was impossible. She could only go as fast as she could run on her own; and she could only use the shadows and her own stealth to hide – after all, no chakra also meant no genjutsu, or enhanced speed, or super strength. For the first time since she started the academy, Sakura had nothing at her disposal but herself. This was why, in the middle of the night and with only half the number of working limbs, Sakura was sneaking out of Rivendell to find her weapons.

An elf watchman stood on guard, his dark hair and clothes blending seamlessly into the night. Breath held; Sakura crouched in the lee of a low wall. If her little jog with Arwen had taught her anything about elves, it was that their hearing and sight were far and above the level of a human. She couldn't afford to make a sound.

Her bare toes and light step allowed her to pad silently away from the guard. A pebble from the border of the flower-bed seemed such a primitive tool for a seasoned Kunoichi to use, but it served its purpose. Her aim was true. She skimmed it lightly across the footpath – tacka tacka rustle thump – and it came to a stop in the bushes on the other side. Not bad, for a pebble, she mused. It had sounded almost – but not quite – like a very good distraction. The elf raised a delicate eyebrow in the direction of the noise, and snorted indelicately.

"Oh my," he drawled to a second watcher in the common tongue, "Did you hear that suspicious noise? I do believe I shall have to abandon my post and go over there to have a look."

The other elf smirked amusedly. "Oh yes," he answered, sarcasm dripping from every word, "You go all the way down there, and I'll stay here on guard. Certainly nobody is going to try and pass us by on the side over there." He nodded with mock-gravity to the right of them. Both sniggered.

"Come now," called the first guard in a more serious tone. "Come out and don't make us look for you. We can see much better than you in the dark, my little friend, and we will not fall for juvenile tricks."

They watched as the bushes behind them gave rise to a small, lithe shape. The shape was resigned, with hunched shoulders, and stepped out of the bush reluctantly.

"You caught me," sighed Pippin. "I'm sorry." The hobbit looked awfully contrite.

The two elves were kind enough not to laugh at him a second time. The second guard clapped him on the shoulder and shook him gently.

"And where were you off to in the middle of the night, little hobbit? It is nie on the eleventh hour. Is it that our hospitality is not to your satisfaction?"

Pippin looked instantly appalled and embarrassed. "Oh no!" he cried, "Your hospitality cannot be faulted. The elves of Rivendell are most generous hosts and I am humbly grateful for it," he said, sketching a little bow. They cocked their heads like curious cats. He shuffled his feet embarrassedly. "It's just that, well," his flushed skin was visible only to the elves in the dark, who found it incredibly amusing. "Miss Stranger seems to be very unhappy," he told them.

"The injured human girl?" the first guard clarified. Pippin nodded.

"Well," the little hobbit continued, "She has done so much for us – she saved our lives as well as Frodo's you know – that, well," he was aware that he was starting to babble and cleared his throat nervously. "I just thought that I could do something for her - maybe if I could find the weapons she lost, she'll be happier." He finished the sentence in a quick jumble, looking for all the world like a scolded child.

The elves shook their heads and admonished him for going out at night alone. He nodded meekly in all the right places, and consented to be led back to his room by one of the guards.

From her place in the bushes Sakura watched the exchange. The elves seemed more amused, than angry, and as soon as she'd verified to herself that the hobbit was unlikely to be punished, she smirked, rose, and padded silently and unseen across the path.

Hobbits were useful creatures after all.

* * *

The river was wide, flat and slow. The waters had receded at long last; in their wake lay soggy mud-banks and flattened grasses. Mud or silt must have been washed down from further up, because the water was a muddy brown – in the limited light allowed by the sliver of moon, it looked near-black. She eyed it hesitantly. Under normal circumstances, she'd have just run across the surface without so much as blinking. Now however, she needed a way to cross without splashing – which would attract attention – and without getting wet – which would tell everyone where she'd been. If everything went according to plan nobody would ever know that she'd left her room at all. First though, she needed to cross. Everything that she was looking for was on the other side.

Deciding that it was too wide at the Ford – though it was the shallowest place to cross - Sakura picked her way downstream. She could hear the rushing of the rapids ahead. It was remarkably loud in the otherwise silent night, and roared and crashed with enough noise to wake the dead.

_'**Or ****to ****hide, ****say, ****the ****noise ****of**** someone ****crossing t****he **_**_river_?****' **The thought was sudden, unexpected and inspired, and absolutely brilliant. Sakura grinned to herself, but soon wiped it from her face as she once again approached the water. The river here was fast moving. Rocks jutted haphazardly from the spray and the water rushed over and around them. Some of them were quite far apart.

There was nothing for it. She was going to have to jump.

Steeling herself, Sakura squinted at the nearest boulder. Judging distances in the dark, without chakra to enhance her vision, was much more difficult than she'd expected. Once more, Sakura berated herself for letting herself get too reliant on chakra. Wasn't the first Ninja rule to be prepared for any eventuality? She ground her teeth in frustration. Taking a half a step backwards, Sakura ran two strides to the waters edge and pushed off the wet mud. She slipped and landed short. With a pained 'oof' and a splash, she landed on her stomach on the rock; legs from the knees down in the river. She scrabbled with her left hand for a hold, and finally hauled herself up with a distinctly uncomfortable grimace… Her right arm was throbbing again, and once again her left knuckles had split and blood was seeping down her arm.

So much for that plan.

Sakura took stock of her situation. Ok, so her legs were wet. That wasn't so bad – they were bare and they would dry. The hem of her tunic only reached her knees anyway, and when she reached down and pinched it, she was relieved to find that it had ridden up enough to miss the water. Her ribs now hurt like buggery, but she could pass that off as remnants of her fight with the Nazgul. Likewise, she must have been clenching her hands in her sleep and cracked her knuckles again. Nothing that couldn't be explained. And more to the point, nobody was running down the bank to catch her, so the rapids must have done their job – nobody had heard her.

With newly refreshed determination, Sakura began eyeing the distance for the next jump. She eyed it a little more carefully this time. She couldn't afford another slip.

The sudden appearance of an ominous black shape had given her a fright, about half way across. But it had turned out to be nothing more than the sad body of another wraith-horse. Excepting one small stumble, and one bad landing where she'd banged her knee quite painfully on the rock, she made it across without further instance. She spared a moment, on the opposite shore, to turn and examine the far bank. She couldn't see anyone. Satisfied at last that she had remained un-followed, Sakura finally turned to the low, deeply shadowed Trollshaws on this side of the Bruinen. She crept along the edge of the wood, headed upstream, with one eye on the river and her entire concentration on staying low and hidden. She was forced to leave the relative shelter and expose herself as she once more neared the Ford, searching the ground for the Shuriken which she'd thrown at the Ringwraiths as they tried to escape the flood.

She wasn't certain what it was that had fixed a midnight search for her weapons in her mind as a good idea. All that she was certain of was that she had no other way of fighting anymore. And the desperate, weak thirteen year old inside her had hated the thought of returning to the level of baggage – to be protected and hidden away whenever things got rough. So, she was searching the banks of the river in the dark, for weapons which she may or may not actually be able to use in the future, because she couldn't stand the thought of sitting by uselessly and waiting for the world to pass her by again.

Much to her disappointment, she found nothing. Concluding at last that the throwing stars must have been washed away in the flood, Sakura forced herself to be optimistic. This mission wasn't a loss yet. She daren't retrace her steps through the wood entirely – she didn't have the time tonight, and she was acutely aware that as a 'normal' chakra-less human being she would never manage the journey. She winced as an uneven step aggravated her sore ribs.

_'**For ****a ****medic, ****I ****really ****am ****bad ****at ****this ****whole ****rest-and-recover ****thing**_**_'_ **she thought with a self-deprecating snort. She rubbed the area idly, only to quickly drop her hand as her elbow throbbed. Right. Poison. She sighed. Of all the alternate worlds to fall into, she just _had_ to get the one with the cursed jewellery and the poisonous weapons of mass-evil. Why the heck had she thought that killing one of those things was a good idea again? She must be picking up on Naruto's hero-complex or something.

As best she could, Sakura stuck to the tree-line, following the road. In the dark, injured and more or less defenceless, she didn't want to risk going too deep into the woods. The track was more or less straight, and in a shorter time than she'd expected Sakura came to an area that was blocked with fallen trunks and bits of tree. It took her an hour to unravel the wire, and longer to search through the burnt paper and trees to find four exploding tags that had avoided the detonating wire. The tags she tucked carefully into the inner lining of her tunic, while the wire she wrapped carefully around her hand as she walked back toward the river. It wound around her bloodied knuckles in a neat circle, while Sakura winced and grumbled every time her right arm protested the movement. It protested fairly frequently.

By now Sakura knew it must be drawing near two'o'clock, if not later. She had done what she had set out to do, and retrieved her trip-wire and even some tags that she had not expected to find. Even if she had not found her shuriken, she had succeeded in part. She reached the river and prepared to return to Rivendell and to her bed.

But something made her hesitate, and turn her gaze down-river.

_'**I ****used ****a ****kunai ****down ****there,**_**_'_ **she remembered. Or had it been two? She couldn't recall exactly, but she'd used them. She hovered indecisively on the riverbank, eyeing the darkness doubtfully. It had felt like a long way down but…how far was it really? Were one or two kunai really going to make so much of a difference that it was worth risking her cover for? If she wasn't back within the next few hours she'd lose the dark and expose herself…

_'**It ****might****' **_said a sly little voice in the back of her head._ **'****Didn****'****t ****all ****your ****problems ****stem ****from ****not ****being ****prepared ****enough? ****How ****else ****will ****you ****defend ****yourself ****in ****your ****state?****'**_

Sakura bit her lip. She couldn't defend herself – she was too weak. One of her arms bled every time she so much as twitched her fingers and she had no chakra. Even if the elves successfully got all of the poison out of her system, she'd still only have one arm to fight with. She was going to have to retrain herself entirely to have any hope of surviving the next ninja war, and even so, without chakra there would be no more missions for Haruno Sakura. Assuming of course that she even _got_home. What if the wizard _couldn__'__t _help her? She'd have to survive a war here with absolutely nothing to give her an advantage. Her gut was telling her to go look for the kunai.

Even as she debated the matter, her feet took a hesitant step, and then another toward the battleground. With one last look to the Ford, Sakura sped into a jog. She'd just have to make it fast.

* * *

Sakura let herself fall against an upthrust rock. Her thighs were aching, her calves were aching, and her feet were aching. It had been a long jog, and now she was berating herself for being so reckless and stupid. Even if she headed back right away she'd be cutting it fine now. Not to mention the fact that Glorfindel was sure to notice her exhaustion and question her about it, and she wasn't entirely sure that she could come up with a convincing lie.

Just what was she expecting to find anyway? A bunch of uninhabited Ringwraith armour and her kunai in clear sight? She sighed heavily, feeling the strain of the poison on her body. She was sore, and tired, and once again she was cross with herself for doing something stupidly un-ninja-ish. And _still _she had the ridiculous urge to keep walking, just a little further, to find her kunai. With a resigned groan she forced herself back onto her feet. Surely it couldn't be that far now? After all, she thought bitterly, she'd already come this far – she might as well make it worth the walk.

As it happened, it _wasn__'__t_ much further. Soon, Sakura stumbled and narrowly avoided losing her balance entirely. The cause of the stumble turned out to be a stretch of over-turned ground, riddled with footprints. She reached out blindly and traced one of them with her fingertips. Definitely footprints.

She vaguely remembered dropping it when it had stabbed her, and wandered around in circles trying to find it. Just as her frustration was reaching its peak, a cloud shifted, a sliver of moonlight escaped and…something glimmered. Sakura greedily rushed to it, digging into the silt with her fingers. Only the ring at the end was visible, but if she just dug a little deeper…

But there was nothing below the ring. For a crushing moment, Sakura had the irrational thought that her kunai had been destroyed…but the metal was stronger than that, wasn't it? And that was when a sobering thought occurred to her. Sakura rushed down to the river and began to scrub away the mud. She sat back, uncaring or unaware that she was out in the open and clearly visible as the clouds gave way to a brighter sky.

In the dim light afforded by that sliver of moon, Sakura saw in her hand not the silver metal of a kunai ring; but instead, dull gold.

**Bumm-bum-buuuummmmm.**

**All new, never before seen content. Back to the basics: Sneaking 101. I suspect Gollum also took that class.**

**What happened to Sakura's chakra?**

**What happened to Sakura's arm?**

**What will happen now?**

**These are questions which no doubt you will all be pondering, and hating me for not providing the answers to. Don't worry my little readers; I will answer all in time. In the mean time I am curious to hear your guesses.**

**Also, I am sure that on some level Sakura really _is_ glad that Frodo is getting better and is going to be ok. But let's face it; it's a little bit hard to be happy about somebody else's recovery while you are still suffering grievous injury and bodily harm. It would be rather like sitting in the hospital and having the doctor tell you: "Oh, well there's not much hope of recovery for you I'm afraid, but hey, at least this guy over here is fine." Gee, thanks Doc.**

**Also, the internet tells me that what Glorfindel shouts up there translates to: "Stop that!"**

**~Devi1OnUrShou1der~**


	12. Chapter Eleven

**When In Middle Earth: The edited, revised and face-lifted edition****:**

**When in Middle Earth, do as the Middle-Earthlings do. Sakura finds herself in the midst of Middle Earth, immersed in a war she has no part in, saving a world and people she doesn't know, and why? Because Naruto would be disappointed in her if she ever got back and told him she hadn't...**

_**Chapter Eleven:**_

_**In which questions are answered, answers are questioned, and Sakura is more of a pain than Naruto on a bad day.**_

_**Good effort Sakura.**_

**Disclaimer:**

**The Lord of The Rings, it's associated characters and components are copyright and property of its author J. R. R. Tolkien, the actors that played them, and the director of the trilogy of films of the same name, Peter Jackson. The character Sakura and any components associated with the manga and anime 'Naruto' are property and copyright of Masashi Kishimoto**

_**Apologies first I think:**_

_**I know it's been almost two months since my last update. Sorry about that. Blame summer jobs and violent stomach infections. **_

_**Tally ho.**_

**The story continues:**

* * *

_The dawn was coming. Sakura knew this. The sky was getting lighter, she was sitting out in the open, and Glorfindel would be checking in on her soon. Sakura knew this too._

_She also wasn't moving._

_The mud was sucking at her knees, and the hem of her robe was dirty. Her fingernails were crusted with soil and her hands were red raw. Blood was dribbling down her arm from a hand that was looking significantly non-alive other than for the fact, and her knee was grazed. She was badly in need of a bath and a good excuse. But Sakura wasn't thinking about any of these things._

_Haruno Sakura, for the first time in her life, was having a very hard time not putting on a piece of jewellery. The wraith-ring sat innocently in her hand; the well-earned prize of a battle hard-won. The thing was of course, that Sakura had never in her life kept a trophy from a battle. She was well aware of this, and for the first time since sneaking out in the middle of the night, she was thinking about the exact thought process that had led her to this point. As she looked at the plain piece of gold in her muddy palm, Sakura questioned her true motivation. She was also questioning her sanity, her strength of will, and what the hell was going on._

'_**It's not even pretty' she said to herself.**_

_**It's special, she whispered back to herself.**_

_Her mind felt strangely…detached. Somewhere deep down she could feel that something was off. Wrong. But equally strong was the feeling that the feeling would go away if she only put on the ring. She felt like there was something she needed to remember; something that was stopping her, as if there was somebody else with her shouting 'NO!' at the top of their voice._

'_**It's dangerous' she thought.**_

_**You**__** used to be dangerous, said the thought, slyly. You used to be **__**strong**__**. What are you now?**_

'_**I am-'**_

"_Sakura!"_

_Her fist snapped closed. The wire around her hand dug into her knuckles, turning them white, but the cool feel of the metal against her palm was the only sensation she seemed to be aware of. Even her left arm felt less cold. More there. A shadow fell over her and goose-bumps erupted along her arms as the heap of the sun was blocked from her. She looked up, dazed. Sun? When had the sun come up? _

_Aragorn was standing over her, his face suspicious. Even as he examined her, he saw that her eyes seemed to clear, like a fog or a dream had lifted, and they became sharp again. The tight fist of her right hand relaxed to a normal colour, and dropped to her side, but did not open. Wire was wound about it, charred to a grey-black around her slim fingers. The wire from the forest, he picked correctly. His assessment took in her state. She was dirty, cold, and a little bruised. His own clothes were wet to the thigh, having waded across the river to her for the second time in as many nights. His noisy crossing could not have gone unheard, yet not once had he seen her look up 'til he called out to her. Suspiciously he looked again at her hand. He could see only the wire – though what could cause her to have looked at it so intensely he could not begin to guess._

_He dropped to a crouch in front of her. Her eyes followed him, the same clinical green they'd ever been. She cocked her head at him._

_Words ran through his head. A hundred things to say, and not to say; a hundred questions and worries, but she gave him no clues, no cues, nothing. She simply sat, looking back at him with an expression as still and emotionless as cold white stone. _

"_You are supposed to be in bed," he settled on at last._

"_I felt like some fresh air."_

"_Could you not have opened a window?" he asked mildly, linking his fingers and resting his elbows on his knees._

"_I'm not used to spending my days lying about," she waved the hand with the wire. "I had things to collect."_

"_Alone?" He clarified with blatant suspicion. "In the middle of the night?"_

"_Apparently." _

_Sakura's gaze was apathetic, and it concerned him greatly. She was acting…unusually. Colder. More distant. Uncaring, almost, yet her eyes flickered across his as if looking for something in his gaze. Was she still angry with him?_

"_And did you find what you were looking for?" He forced his tone to return to blandness. She held up the wire again, before reaching into her tunic (not without a grimace) and produced four paper tags with strange symbols inked across them. They did not look like anything of particular significance, but, he thought, there had been the smell of charred paper about the forest where the trees had been felled. Wire and Paper…could such things truly have the power to cause such damage? If so, he supposed she had cause to want them back, though why she'd felt the need to sneak away in the dead of night to do so was beyond him. Fighting his frustration, Aragorn rubbed his beard with a rough hand; did Sakura not know that he'd gladly have retrieved them for her had she but asked? _

"_Was there anything else you wished to find?" He thought about the sharpened throwing stars that he'd picked up from the bank. He berated himself for not simply leaving them by her bedside. If she'd seen them when she'd woken up…_

"_My shuriken," she shrugged, "My kunai."_

_He hesitated over the foreign words, repeating them clumsily._

"_My throwing stars and my knife," she clarified with impatience. She couldn't explain why she was so testy. Angry at herself for getting caught out perhaps, or else just tired and cranky: after all, she was still in pain, and Aragorn was prying. And besides, she reasoned, she'd been cross with him already anyway, for all it seemed such a trivial thing now._

"_I collected metal stars from the river bank at the Ford," Aragorn sighed. "I had meant to return them to you on your awakening."_

"_Oh."_

_Guilt hit her like a ton of bricks. Why was she being so harsh to Aragorn? She knew he'd been the one to come looking for her, that he'd been worried, that he had still come for her when he'd realised her missing. He'd taken the time to collect her weapons for her and here she was acting like he was the enemy. Her fist tightened unconsciously, only to quickly release again when Aragorn's eyes flicked down to her hand. She looked away._

"_Thank you," she muttered. _

_For a time the silence stretched between them like a great, echoing chasm. Feeling frustrated, worried, and with an unexplainable discomfort in his gut, Aragorn stood and looked about the area. There were footprints etched and dried in the mud – a small set that could only be Sakura's and a second set, deeper and wider, as if someone large and heavy had stood here not so long ago. Those prints were slightly pointed at the toe, not unlike the boots worn by the Ringwraiths. His brow furrowed. Aragorn crouched, running a finger around the rim of the print. They were muddled, and crossed each other frequently. A flattened space in the mud – someone had fallen on their back – but haphazard footprints ran from it as if the other had staggered backwards. Sakura's shrewd gaze followed him, but she did not yet move from the ground._

_He glanced back at her. Her right arm had been poisoned, without a doubt. His step fell unevenly, and he looked down to see the ground drop and peak with footprints stood close together. Here? There was a long skid, as if someone had been thrown off balance. He knew from his previous experience with Sakura's fighting style that she'd have struck at the end of that slide, but could see no evidence of another fall, nor, in fact, any further footprints. The mud was drying quickly in the sun, baked to near clay, but barely discernable on the ground was something metallic. Sakura's knife?_

_He drew his own knife from his belt and pushed it into the dirt, levering up the soil and loosening its hold on the object. A triangular point became visible, followed by a long shaft and a metal loop. He dug deeper, unearthing the blade inch by inch until at last the strange shaped weapon sat heavily in his palm. He weighed it thoughtfully, and turned to address the girl behind him. _

_Sakura froze; one hand tucked inside her tunic, industriously prying apart the seam with her fingers. But he halted in his turn as the sun glimmered in the corner of his eye. Aragorn's attention had been caught, and he did not see Sakura carefully tuck the ring away into the little hole. She shivered as the metal left her skin; her body becoming suddenly cold._

_What had caught his attention was neither particularly shiny, nor particularly distinct. Had the sun not caught it at just the right angle, at just the right moment, he'd have missed it entirely. He returned the tip of the knife to the soil, prying up the object. Black metal, smeared with mud and sheered at the edge. Curved, and tapered into a point, the shape took him a long minute to recognise. A finger. From the armour of a Black Rider. His breath caught._

_Sakura heard the hitch in his breath, saw the line of his shoulders become tense. She could not see his face, but she'd bet an entire missions wages that his eyes were darting about, reassessing the remnants of the battle. She watched him shift his weight, rock on his heels and rise in a fluid movement; exposing the kunai in his hand. His knuckles were white about it, but the very next moment his body relaxed and he loped over to her once more. Immoveable and expressionless, he looked down at her._

"_I've found your knife," he told her quietly, pulling her to her feet. _

_She took it from him unsurely, a feeling of sudden apprehension washing over her as she watched his face for some kind of recognition…or accusation. But his face was still and without expression: she couldn't read him at all. Unnerved, she allowed him to take her by her least injured hand and lead her away. The light weight of the ring bumped gently against her ribcage as she walked – she found herself suddenly fidgety – but could not adjust her clothing. Doubts settled in her mind: dark thoughts that she shied from, and those more close to home; doubts of herself._

_Feeling the silence become thick and oppressive, and fearing it, she offered a shaky, even a little meek, "Thank you" as he began to propel her along in the direction she'd come. His hand tightened around hers. It stayed tight._

"_Do not thank me yet," he muttered. _

_And though the thought had not been meant aloud, and Sakura had not been meant to hear it, she did, and she fell into a troubled, fretful quiet._

* * *

The gardens were quiet at this time of the day, Sakura mused dully, hopping awkwardly across the stepping stones of an ornamental pond. She was alone.

Unceremoniously deposited on her bottom on her bed, Sakura had been promptly abandoned by the Ranger into the hands of Glorfindel, now-and-ever-after to be known as 'The Bastard'. She been lectured like a child, stripped and sponge bathed by some unnamed elf woman (much to Sakura's vocal protest. _Extremely _vocal) and then, to put the cherry on the humiliation cake, assigned a personal guard to make sure she 'stayed where she was supposed to'. Sakura ground her teeth. She was _not _a _child _to be bloody _babysat. _How they hadn't found the ring was a mystery to Sakura, but after they'd taken her robe away and finally left her alone (with the guard) there it had been, poking surreptitiously out of a crack between two floorboards. She could only assume it had slipped out of the seam when they'd dropped the robe onto the floor pre-bath, and found herself thanking every deity she could think of that the guard hadn't spotted it before she had. Using the bathroom as an excuse for privacy, she'd carefully dug her fingers into the crack and pulled the floorboard up as far as she dared, pushing the ring more firmly underneath it and out of sight. She needed time to think about that. It wasn't something she particularly wanted to have to explain just yet.

Hell, she still hadn't told anyone what had _actually_ happened yet. Nobody but Sakura; and possibly Aragorn, she amended with a wince; knew or suspected what the battle had truly involved. Whenever Glorfindel tried a new tactic to pry information from her, she'd clam up like Hinata faced with Naruto, and refused to speak for some time afterward. The subject of her chakra loss was one she'd barely coped with herself; explaining it to somebody else was a thought that made her balk. She couldn't quite deny that frustrating the healer also sparked a little vindictive pleasure in her. It wasn't like knowing was going to bring him any closer to healing her anyway. She snorted at the 'great practice of elven healing'. Her left arm had been bandaged up like a mummy again, 'til not an inch of skin was visible, and to add insult to injury The Bastard had bound it up in a sling as well. She'd have had it off in seconds if not for the fact that he'd used some sort of elven knot that was impossible for her reach or undo. His (stupid, she thought) reasoning was that, if she _couldn't _keep aggravating it perhaps they might finally see some progress. Sakura doubted it.

Her poisoned elbow showed some improvement with the treatment of Kingsfoil, despite her night-time excursion, and so she narrowly escaped a second sling. The healer had almost done it anyway, out of spite, but had reined in the urge. One of them had to be an adult, after all, he'd told himself, though he insisted on a brace. It was made of leather and resembled her Konoha elbow guards in a way, but was fastened with buckles and held a more rigid shape. She poked it unhappily with the fingers that dangled from her sling. Glorfindel hadn't understood what she'd meant when she'd vehemently protested the second sling, stating that she'd look like a mental patient, but he'd compromised. Not entirely a victory but better than nothing. A wry smirk ran across her features at the thought. Perhaps she'd managed to pull one over on him after all; the guard had been hopelessly easy to give the slip. She almost couldn't believe that the same tactic had worked twice.

'**Distraction-no-jutsu'** she thought mockingly, with a mental sigh. She could just imagine Naruto, or Lee, striking a pose and declaring that at the top of his voice. The most ridiculous thing was that it would probably work as well.

She fiddled with her leather brace as she walked, unhappily trying not to think of how Danzo-ish she must look with her arm all bound up. Thankfully the elf-woman's pick of clothes were a little more substantial than the thin robe she'd had before. She wrinkled her nose at the dressing-gown like thing that Glorfindel had pushed at her. The short tunic and leg-hugging pants were much more her 'thing' though she was still without shoes. _And _the Bastard had taken her weapons away again. Grumbling under her breath, she awkwardly tried to shift her arm in the sling, without success.

It was as Sakura was musing on the possible consequences of introducing a strait-jacket to Middle Earth, that her concentration failed and she stopped watching her feet. Another ornamental stream opened out of nowhere under her outstretched foot; it's contoured banks slippery; and Sakura skidded. Her restrained elbows flapped like a chicken as she fell backward, unable to retain her balance. She was braced to land in a particularly ungraceful heap when the hand appeared. It caught her by the wrist and tugged at the same time a second appeared on her lower back to steady her.

Sakura blinked dizzily for a moment upon finding herself suddenly upright again.

"You alright there, lass?"

For a moment the fleeting thought had been that it was Aragorn. He'd certainly developed a habit lately of appearing from nowhere on her. But the Ranger had been neither seen nor heard from since he'd left her in her room, and was rumoured to have been in a council of the utmost secrecy with the wizard and the elf-lord for some time. She didn't want to think about what that might mean.

The hand in fact, as it turned out, belonged to a short and stocky fellow with a long red beard. It was neatly braided with leather thongs and large wooden beads, as was his hair, and his jerkin and gloves were of a fine embossed leather. Sturdy boots and an axe completed the ensemble, all of which gave the man an almost Viking-like appearance. His accent was not one she recognised, though he spoke the Common tongue. He certainly wasn't an elf.

"Um, hello," she said, immediately grimacing at her lack of eloquence. He chortled.

"Hello," he said with a friendly smile under his bristly moustache. He tilted his head at her. "Can't say I was expecting to see a wee human lass here, let alone one all bandaged up so. These elves been treating you well, lass?"

The way he said 'elves' made it sound like he was really saying 'scum', Sakura thought with amusement.

"I, ah, was in a bit of a fight. I was brought here for healing," she answered honestly enough, though vaguely. Embarrassment at having been seen to stumble with such a lack of grace, and indignation at the term 'wee lass', were fading surprisingly fast for her volatile temper. The Viking-like man was quickly capturing her attention with his obvious distaste for the elves, and she couldn't say she was feeling too charitable toward them herself at the present time. "I'm alright," she added, aware that he'd posed the question twice now. The man nodded, stroking down his beard and tugging absently at the beads.

With an abrupt change in demeanour, he suddenly swept into a low bow, twirling his wrists in a ridiculous fashion.

"I am most glad to hear it, my lady. Gimli son of Gloin, most honourable of dwarves, is at your most humble service," he pressed a bristly kiss to the back of her hand. His eyes gleamed with amusement under his thick brows, and Sakura against all expectation found her lips quirking up; not least because this sort of behaviour was exactly the sort of courtly nonsense that annoyed her about the elves, and it seemed Gimli knew it. She let her grin come to fruition; the sort of silly smile she hadn't once worn since her arrival in Middle Earth. Dropping into an exaggerated curtsy, Sakura swept out the hem of her tunic as far as it would go and tucked one ankle behind the other.

"Gimli son of Gloin, most honourable of dwarves, I am Sakura of the Haruno clan. It is the greatest pleasure to make your acquaintance," she affected in a snooty voice. He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and she giggled.

Gimli moved around to her right side, and offered her his arm, which she did not hesitate to take.

"Come, come, my lady Sakura," he said warmly, "I am but one of few dwarves at residence in a place full of elves, and I should much enjoy some pleasanter company. Walk with me a while, and share with me the meaning of your name."

"How do you know my name means something?" Sakura asked curiously.

"A name so beautiful, and attached to such a beauty, cannot but mean something beautiful also." Sakura blushed a little at his warm and friendly praise, and the dwarf chortled again. "Come now lass, and talk with me, else I shall call you naught else but 'lassie' for the duration of our acquaintance."

He laughed outright as the girl wrinkled her nose. That was the sort of thing they called _dogs. _But she soon gave in to the smile threatening her lips and let a little laugh escape her. It was a strange sort of company she'd found, Sakura thought as their walk took them deep under the trees. But Gimli amused her, and treated her as an equal from the get-go, and she found him a welcome sort of distraction from her gloomy and shadowed thoughts.

'**Yes,' she thought. 'His is a company I can take.'**

Aloud she turned a smile on him and squeezed his arm.

"Very well, Master Dwarf, you have won me over."

* * *

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The elf guard, a young fellow by elf standards who went by the name Farahad, stood meekly in the centre of an empty room. Empty, that is, except for himself and two of the most respected figures in Rivendell, both of whom were currently staring him down in the most scathing, disbelieving and furiously aghast manner possible. The young guard quaked. Glorfindel's face had never been so flushed as it was in anger – one could almost have thought to fry an egg on his forehead – while the Dúnedan Aragorn was staring daggers at the poor young elf, with his fists clenched and his eyes alight.

"_What do you mean 'you lost her'?"_

_._

_._

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**To be continued…**

**All new, never before seen content. **

**In which Sakura is pretty much a headache and a pain in the bum for anyone and everyone who has to deal with her – especially poor Aragorn who really is trying to keep her relatively safe and in one piece. And just who did she convince to play 'distraction' this time?**

**Also in which Sakura meets Gimli (who is awesome) and discovers another Middle-Earthian Species; elves are gently mocked, as is Danzo, and Sakura is thinking about Konoha quite a lot.**

**And finally, in which cursed jewellery finds a new home under the floor. I don't believe Sakura owns a jewellery box. She probably just used to borrow Ino's stuff.**

**~Devi1OnUrShou1der~**


	13. Chapter Twelve

**When In Middle Earth: The edited, revised and face-lifted edition:**

**When in Middle Earth, do as the Middle-Earthlings do. Sakura finds herself in the midst of Middle Earth, immersed in a war she has no part in, saving a world and people she doesn't know, and why? Because Naruto would be disappointed in her if she ever got back and told him she hadn't...**

_**Chapter Twelve: **_

_**In which there is angst. Also in which there is banter, fisticuffs', and nobody appears to act their age.**_

_**.**_

**Disclaimer:**

**The Lord of The Rings, it's associated characters and components are copyright and property of its author J. R. R. Tolkien, the actors that played them, and the director of the trilogy of films of the same name, Peter Jackson. The character Sakura and any components associated with the manga and anime 'Naruto' are property and copyright of Masashi Kishimoto**

_**This took ages to write, not because I have a good reason for taking so long, but because I kept changing**_

_**my mind about what I wanted to happen in it.**_

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Warning: Chapter contains frequent use of the word b*****d. Just fair warning, if nasty language like that upsets you.

**The story continues:**

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The elf guard, a young fellow by elf standards who went by the name Farahad, stood meekly in the centre of an empty room. Empty, that is, except for himself and two of the most respected figures in Rivendell, both of whom were currently staring him down in the most scathing, disbelieving and furiously aghast manner possible. The young guard quaked. Glorfindel's face had never been so flushed as it was in anger – one could almost have thought to fry an egg on his forehead – while the Dúnedan Aragorn was staring daggers at the poor young elf, with his fists clenched and his eyes alight.

"_What do you mean 'you lost her'?"_

"_Forgive me, __Dúnedan. I took my eyes off the young lady for but a moment…"_

"_You shouldn't have taken your eyes off her at all!" _

Farahad flinched. The Dúnedan was as much a son to the Lord of the House as Elrond's own and it was well-known that he was a powerful man with all the strength of his blood behind him. He did not know from whence came this attachment to the strange-looking human child, but Farahad was neither disrespectful nor stupid enough to ask. It was obvious though, that his anger stemmed from worry for her welfare. The thought might have made him feel better if Farahad had not indirectly _compromised _her welfare by allowing her to give him the slip.

"_I am most sincerely sorry, my lords,"_ he said meekly, bowing his head and averting his eyes, silently praying that his head would still be attached to his shoulders when he lifted his neck.

Aragorn made a sound like the snarl of a she-lion with her cubs endangered. The young guard watched wearily as he took to pacing the room with sharp, angry steps.

"_Perhaps," _came the cold drawl of the healer, _"you would like to tell us __**exactly **__what was so distracting as to misdirect your attention?" _The tone implied that it had better be good. The guard had no doubt that, if they thought his reason inadequate, or that he lied, he would be in for a severe tongue-lashing if not a worse punishment. Thankfully, he had a good reason.

"_The Lady Arwen, my lord," _he told them earnestly, sensing a fleeting glimpse of redemption. _"Her ladyship knocked at the door, requesting to speak with the young lady, but as per your instructions I respectfully informed her that the young lady was not to be disturbed 'til she had adequately rested."_

"_And what did Arwen say?" _Aragorn asked suspiciously.

"_She accepted the explanation, my lord, and inquired as to the young lady's health. She left after I reassured her that the young lady would recover."_

"_Immediately?"_

"_She…required some convincing. My lord?" _

"I bet she did," Aragorn growled under his breath as he stalked from the room without a further word to the guard.

Farahad watched him unsurely as the man marched past, no longer affording the young elf any of his attention. Confused, and hesitant, he turned back to the distinctly unimpressed Glorfindel. Farahad wilted a little more.

"_My lord Glorfindel?" _he ventured meekly.

Glorfindel gestured irritably.

"_Come, young fool," _he snapped harshly, _"You have failed us, and you must now make amends. You shall help me find her, and woe betide you if we do not. I have not yet lost a patient, though I see my record may not remain so untarnished for long."_

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Gimli wheezed, leaning on a tree for support. His shoulders shook, and he was hard fought to get the air into his lungs. He could barely get the words out through his laughter.

"And _then, _the old elf-lord goes almost as red as my hair," he fisted his beard and shook it at her, "a-and says, calm as a tornado: '_You were outwitted by a woman with a pebble?'…_and the two guards stammered like schoolboys about to face a whipping!"

Guffaws erupted from Sakura's throat. She pressed her closed fist against her lips in a fruitless attempt to stifle them, only to choke ungracefully on her own spit with the force of her laughter. She bent over her knees, breathless and rosy-cheeked, chest heaving and sore. The unnatural force of laughing and choking at the same time grated on her throat and she was forced to deliberately slow her breathing in an effort to recover. Chuckles quieting, Gimli began to wipe the tears from his eyes with the end of a braid, with little more than the shaking of his shoulders to mark his hoarse sniggering. It took all of a moment for the two meet eyes, the barest look from one to the other; and they fell about themselves all over again.

"To-too easy," she mocked, eyes sparkling as they watered, and ran down her aching cheeks.

The teen allowed her elbows to take the weight as she fell backward, giggling merrily from the ground as Gimli once more re-enacted the 'Grand Elf Embarrassment' as he'd witnessed it, before he'd ducked into the trees in the interest of elf-avoidance. Complete with ridiculously exaggerated facial expressions. He flapped his hand girlishly under his chin, widened his eyes comically and even trembled his lower lip.

"_Oh I'm soooo sorry Lord Elrond," _he affected in a high voice, completely unlike the deep voices of the guards and yet infinitely more fitting, to his personal opinion. He grinned at Sakura's appreciative, if unladylike, snort.

Schooling her features into an appropriately blank expression was difficult with the grin tugging at her lips, but she managed it just long enough for a completely straight-faced: "My, Master Dwarf, what an incredibly accurate impression."

Her lips twisted and she bit the inside of her cheek trying not to smile as he bowed theatrically in thanks.

"Indeed, if not for the beard you'd never have known the difference, I dare say."

"Oh, without a doubt. Certainly not."

The third, unlooked for and decidedly _un_-amused, voice interrupted with an abrupt sarcasm that made both Girl and Dwarf jump. Gimli spun on his heel with a speed Sakura hadn't expected from him and it was with near-morbid fascination that she watched the friendly Gimli suddenly morph into a bristling, glaring porcupine of a man, and plant himself firmly between the elf and herself.

Sakura's groan was audible. So audible in fact, as to echo quite distinctly around the little terrace, and draw a look like a rotten lemon from the third party. The Bastard had found them.

Glorfindel stood in the centre of the pavers, arms crossed, eyes like firecrackers and cheeks flushed with mixed parts indignation and fury. She supposed he might have looked a fearsome sight to anyone that actually respected him. Sakura, however, was singularly unimpressed, almost to the point of taking offence that he wasn't trying harder. After all, anyone who'd seen Ino at the wrong time of the month without chocolate ice-cream… well, short of Tsunade herself most blondes kind of lost their intimidation factor in comparison.

Therefore, instead of quaking in her boots (figuratively speaking, being as she was currently barefoot), she merely cocked her head like a curious spaniel at Gimli's back. It was quite sweet actually, she found herself thinking (much to her internal surprise), the way that Gimli had moved in front of her. She briefly contemplated telling him that the likelihood of Glorfindel actually hurting her was practically zip – he'd spent too much effort bandaging her up already for it to be worth it – but given the way lightning was practically crackling in the air between them she decided suddenly that it was wisest not to interrupt.

She stifled a groan as she realised that she was going to be dragged into it regardless.

"I should have expected a dwarf to have no respect for the injured," Glorfindel sneered nastily, and added something in elvish that smacked of something unpleasant.

The dwarf glared.

"Respect? And who is it that canna' keep track of their own patients, hmm?" He spat on the ground and crossed his arms insolently. "Elfish healing, pah! A bunch of nonsensical rubbish."

"_Rubbish?_" The elf sputtered. Sakura was almost expecting to see his long hair fluff up like a spitting cat…but alas his locks remained obnoxiously straight and glossy.

"Hard of hearing as well, elf?"

"How very like a dwarf, to make a mockery of his betters merely to assuage his own self-worth," Glorfindel raised a derisive eye-brow, affecting a tone so un-disguisedly condescending as to make even Sakura flinch. "Pathetic," he spat.

Gimli covered the paces between them faster than a blink, his angry, jousting finger almost jabbing up the elf's nostril with its force.

"We'll see who is the better of us when I smear ye' pretty face across the ground, ye' effeminate lackey!" His moustache quivered with rage.

A light appeared in Glorfindel's eye at the insinuation. If Sakura hadn't have known to look underneath the underneath she might have missed the sudden tension in his neck and jaw, or the barest sound of grinding as the elf gnashed his teeth.

There was no mistaking a ninja's sense for a brewing fight, not that anyone couldn't have foreseen it with the thick and furious tension clouding the air.

If Sakura had had her chakra, she'd simply have punched the ground out from underneath them and that would have been that: end of fight. If she'd had two fully functioning arms, she'd have grabbed each of them by the collar and smacked their heads together. But Sakura had neither of these. She looked from one to the other, irritably jerking at the restraining sling.

"Threatening an unarmed foe? How very dwarfish a trait."

Surely they weren't actually going to fall into a fist fight in the middle of Lord Elrond's garden, and in the precense of a lady and all that rot? Glorfindel surely wouldn't….he was too proper…too-

"Posturing and stalling for time? How very elfish."

Glorfindel's fists immediately tightened. With a fluid movement that made the weapon seem virtually weightless Gimli drew his axe from his belt. He tossed it to the side, as if it weighed nothing. But the dirt flew up in a tremendous cloud as it landed, with an unmistakeably heavy thud, blade down and sunk an inch at least into the flowerbed. He raised his curled fists, the ginger hairs that decorated them swaying a little as, meaningfully; he waved them in the air.

"A dwarf needs no weapon against such a skinny, feeble foe."

Glorfindel growled. If it weren't so far beneath him to do so, Sakura was certain that he might have bared his teeth or raised his own fists to match the dwarf's. Instead, he pasted an expression of barely restrained derision of his face and sneered insomuch as his stoic façade would allow.

"Idiot," he drawled, lip curled and arms folded.

The word was like a slap to the face. Gimli began to shout, but to Sakura it felt like a bucket of cold water had been tipped abruptly down her back. Her eyes widened; her minds-eye pasting different, more painful, faces across the cold elf and the hot-headed dwarf. A different language to be sure, but still…he'd sounded just like…

"STOP!"

Perhaps that's why she did what she did. Even as Gimli lunged for the elf, Sakura darted forward. The fist swung, and Glorfindel rocked on the balls of his feet, readjusting his weight ready for a counter-offensive manoeuvre…and suddenly Sakura was between them. Startled, it took the two males a second too long to pull their punches. Gimli swung his arm away, veering the blow off to the side, but his position was harder to correct and his foot slid at a jarring angle, throwing his weight forward and accidently thrusting the flat off his shoulder into Sakura, knocking her toward Glorfindel. The elf staggered, throwing his arms in front of himself, only to awkwardly catch the stumbling kunoichi under the arms as she fell heavily back against him. He grunted with discomfort as her elbow dug into his gut and she cried out as the three of them tumbled to the ground together, jarring her injuries with enough force to make her eyes water.

"Sakura!" Gimli cried out worriedly, rolling off of her immediately and hunching on his heels. "Lassie, are ye' alright?"

"Foolish, headstrong girl!" Glorfindel exclaimed, even as he readjusted them so as to be kneeling with Sakura leaning heavily against his shoulder, his arms still supporting her. But the reprimand was lacking bite, and enough genuine worry that Sakura thought she must have misheard.

In response to both, all she could immediately summon was a groan.

"Look what you have done!"

"What I've done?"

"Put a- owgoddammit- sock in it," Sakura wheezed a little, squinting through one wet eye. "There is a lady present," she added half-heartedly.

"And here I thought there was a hopeless masochist present," Glorfindel sighed. She huffed at his comment, in the way women often do when crossed. His keen eyes tracked every twitch of discomfort in his patient, only to find himself once more forcefully suppressing an irritated 'tch' as she noticed, and went still. Why the girl found it so repugnant to show pain in front of others was a mystery to him. She showed more pride and stubbornness than a man!

As if to prove his mental point, she scowled at him and pushed herself upright, out of his hold.

"I'm fine Gimli," she said, ignoring the elf a-purpose as she patted the dwarf's bristly cheek. "It's a little hard to keep my balance with my arms all tied up, is all," this was addressed accusingly over her shoulder, and Gimli obligingly glared at the elf disgustedly.

"Enough."

Finally at the end of his patience, Glorfindel rose. He stared Sakura down even as she scowled at him from the ground.

"You are returning to the house, where you will rest and heal, even if I have to chain you to the bed," he informed her. Her jaw dropped. How could anyone say something like that so blandly? But he cut across her before she could get her wits together for a good answering tirade. "You will. You have done yourself enough further injury these past twenty four hours to last the remainder of your stay, be now satisfied and allow yourself to mend."

So saying he unceremoniously bent and scooped her into her arms, ignoring her yelp of surprise and indignation.

"And you, dwarf," Glorfindel continued coldly, "are a guest at the last Homely House. I would most _humbly _suggest you remember it. _I _must now see to my patient."

He strode away, pace and grip unfaltering even as the injured girl began to thrash and shout. Gimli remained, torn between genuine concern for the girl, as he'd grown rather fond of her during their conversation, guilt at having had a hand in her discomfort, and vindictive pride that she still had enough fight in her to wage a war on the elf's eardrums.

Such was the strength of her lungs that she continued to be perfectly audible even to him, long after they'd left his sight. With a murmured word of blessing for her recovery, he touched his knuckles to his lips and forehead, and having done so he made his peace, settled his guilt with an internal promise to obtain her room and visit her, and began to search around for the perfect flowers to yank out of the elves perfect flowerbeds as a peace-offering.

Obnoxiously, he began to hum.

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Aragorn was there. So were the wet-blanket guard, and the two half-wits she'd outsmarted the previous night, for all they thought themselves so clever. They weren't looking half so smiley now. In fact, everyone within the room looked rather like they wanted to burn a hole through her head with the force of their collective glares, possibly leaving her a charred smear on the wall as a reminder to all those who dared to cross the mighty elves in the future.

Sakura stuck her tongue out.

She nearly bit it in half as Glorfindel held his arms out over the bed and promptly dropped her. She moved instantly, swinging her legs over the edge…only to be pushed back onto her back by the blonde healer. He barked something in elvish, and suddenly the three other elves surged forward. She kicked. She struggled. She even bit one idiot who was stupid enough to put his hand too near her head. Their only response was to bodily throw their weight atop her and pin her to the bed. Grunting and growling as her thrashing bruised ribs, thighs and egos, but not giving her the least bit of leeway.

With complete and utter fury Sakura realised that Glorfindel was perfectly serious about tying her to the bed to make her stay put. Something fearsome reared its head in her and she began to thrash in earnest, aiming to hurt with her knees and elbows.

"Get. Off. Me." She punctuated each word with a violent kick of her legs, to no avail.

Glorfindel glared.

"If you _will _insist upon tousling in the gardens and aggravating your injuries doing who-knows-what in the night, you cannot expect anything less than the consequences."

She upped his glare with a look of absolute venom.

"If _you _will go picking _childish _fights with dwarves, you can't expect me not to step in!"

"What?" Aragorn interjected sharply. Glorfindel's lips thinned. He'd have preferred not to have disclosed that information. Aragorn was not to be deterred, he roughly caught hold of the elf's wrist and looked the blonde straight in the eye. "Sakura was injured because _you _were _fighting_?" He looked livid. Glorfindel snatched his arm back.

"A minor dispute," he answered coldly. The Bastard – for from now on she would call him nothing else – began industriously knotting the end of a plaited sheet around the frame of the bed.

"You are supposed to be looking after her," he growled.

"I can look after myself," Sakura snarled abruptly swinging her head around like a whip lash to face his. She hated how breathless and non-threatening she sounded, but three elf males pressing her down was putting distinct pressure on her lungs and broken ribs. Surprisingly however, the weight of the elves combined didn't feel much more than that of a single adult man, but she didn't give much thought to it as she fought to free herself. "Don't treat me like a child!"

Aragorn's lips thinned. Glorfindel indicated the second plait and, despite a dirty look in the elf's direction, he obligingly began to tie it on the other side.

The two squeezed their respective ends of rope through the throng of bodies, exchanged them, and moved positions to tie them down firmly on each side. Sakura winced as her struggles caused the material to dig sharply into her skin, rubbing roughly on her sensitive flesh. Tears welled in her eyes involuntarily, but she refused to let them fall. Instead, realising at last the futility in the exercise, she let her limbs go limp. With considerable wariness the elves moved away, taking their hands from her with painstaking slowness as they released her one by one. She didn't move.

Aragorn's face filled with concern as he watched her fall still. There was something gnawing at his gut. His suspicions he still warred with himself over, but there was something else. He couldn't help but feel an over-whelming wrongness about the situation….

"It is for your own good," Glorfindel addressed the girl on the bed. Her eyes snapped to him like a lunging snake.

"Do not tell me what is and is not for my own good," she snarled quietly. Glorfindel wanted to question that. He wanted to ask, if she were such a great and knowledgeable healer – if she knew what was 'good' for her – then why was she deliberately resisting him at every turn? Why did she keep aggravating her injuries against her better knowledge? He wanted to snort derisively and tell her that it didn't look like it from where he stood.

But something stopped him. There was something in her eyes that he had not seen there before, even in the woods when she had thought him her enemy.

Hatred. Of the blackest and coldest kind, hatred burned in that look. It was not a look of anger, nor exactly of defeat. Her face was passive, but her eyes blazed, and in that moment Glorfindel knew that this girl despised him.

Aragorn too, saw this, and shared in the unnerved looks that discreetly flitted around the room. She turned her head sharply to the ceiling, apparently resolved to pay no further attention to anybody in the room. The two gate-guards nodded stiffly to Glorfindel and exited, their job seemingly done, while the younger guard Farahad took up a wooden stool and placed it by the door, where he seated himself. It seemed he was to remain her babysitter for the duration. She acknowledged none of this.

"It is unbecoming for a Lady to sulk about her circumstances," Glorfindel admonished gently, as he began the process of checking over and applying aid to her injuries.

It was with considerable concern that he and Aragorn both noticed her utter lack of response. Sakura's teeth were grinding. Her eyes were glaring, and her fists were clenched. Specifically, she was grinding, glaring and clenching at the ceiling, which was the only thing she could look at from her current position of being strapped to the bed. But she made not one movement, not one twitch, to indicate she'd heard a comment that normally she'd have seethed over. She appeared to have lapsed into a helpless kind of silent fury.

Neither knew quite what to make of it as they left her.

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It was not until Aragorn reached the end of the hallway that the thought hit him like a brick wall and stopped him dead in his tracks.

Sakura could lift a man bodily off the ground with nothing more than a fingertip. She could punch craters in the ground. She could lift a stone pillar from its base.

_So why couldn't she throw three elves off her, when she was so violently opposed to it?_

She was injured, true. But…Sakura could _heal. _He'd experienced it first-hand.

_So why were her ribs still broken? Why did she give up so easily?_

Aragorn's suspicions suddenly took the most worrying turn yet. He had to talk to Gandalf… he stopped again a mere half-pace later, looking unsurely back the way he'd come.

Indecisively, he hovered, his mind whirring.

_What happened to you, Sakura?_

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'_**Kakashi-sensei, I will never ever force you to go to the hospital ever again.' **_Sakura promised the ceiling silently. _**'Naruto-kun, I will never again strap you down to the bed, not even if you are terribly terribly injured. If you want to leave and go train stupidly and mess yourself up, no problem. Ditto Lee. I won't even lecture you about it.'**_

She had never felt more helpless and vulnerable in her life. She hated it. Despised it.

Yes, it was humiliating. _YES,_ it was uncomfortable. But more than anything she couldn't stand this feeling of being useless, of being completely unable to change her circumstances. Her eyes stung as she valiantly fended off bitter tears…again. This feeling…of not having chakra…of not having _anything_…the yawning chasm of loss that she felt was made yet more aching and bitter and consuming by the knowledge that, had she an ounce of useable chakra, she'd have been off the bed, healed and out of the window in seconds. She'd have been away. She'd have been _free. _

Sakura had never felt so desperately adrift in her life.

She arched her back, pushing half-heartedly at her bonds. They didn't give an inch. She flopped back onto the bed as the air whooshed back into her lungs, not without protest from her abused ribs.

She bit her lip. Her pain tolerance clearly wasn't what it used to be. Just how weak was she getting?

'**Too weak' **supplied her mind. Her brow furrowed. This wasn't a productive line of thinking. She hadn't thought like this since…

She strained her eyes to the side so as to avoid drawing the attention of the guard, and looked at the door to the bathroom.

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**To be continued…**

**.**

**.**

**All new, never before seen content. **

**So. In which Sakura is a very unhappy bunny; Gimli and Glorfindel dip a little bit out of character with the fisticuffs' (though it didn't actually come to much more than ruffled feathers and poor Sakura getting squashed) and Aragorn is a suspicious bugger who is finally starting to put two and two together. Also in which Glorfindel is a bit of nasty-pasty, even though its technically for her own good.**

**The ending turned out a bit more dramatic and angsty than I intended…. O.o**

**I had a bit more fluffy happy scenes planned, but they'll keep 'til next chapter. **

**Some epically awesome characters will appear next chapter. We may also find out what actually happened to all those other characters that seem to have disappeared over the last couple of chapters.**

**I am sure Gimli will have tremendous fun destroying the gardener's hard work by picking a bouquet for Sakura, and she'll probably appreciate the effort he's gone to to piss off the elves on her behalf.**

**Also, in which we find out: IT WAS ARWEN? Hmmm…intentionally or not do we think?**

**~Devi1OnUrShou1der~**


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**When In Middle Earth: The edited, revised and face-lifted edition:**

**When in Middle Earth, do as the Middle-Earthlings do. Sakura finds herself in the midst of Middle Earth, immersed in a war she has no part in, saving a world and people she doesn't know, and why? Because Naruto would be disappointed in her if she ever got back and told him she hadn't...**

_**Chapter Thirteen:**_

_**The freakishly long chapter:**_

_**In which the heroine learns the value of proper communication: mainly that it saves time, because Aragorn is a clever bloke who'll figure it out eventually anyway.**_

_**It really is best to come clean.**_

_**.**_

**Disclaimer:**

**The Lord of The Rings, its associated characters and components are copyright and property of its author J. R. R. Tolkien, the actors that played them, and the director of the trilogy of films of the same name, Peter Jackson. The character Sakura and any components associated with the manga and anime 'Naruto' are property and copyright of Masashi Kishimoto**

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**The story continues:**

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**Sixth day of Hobbits' stay in Rivendell: Mid-day…**

"How did the nine fall?"

Gandalf blinked, momentarily thrown for a loop by the seemingly out-of-the-blue question. His bristly brows drew down to a point over his large, squashed nose, and he puffed his pipe with long deliberation. He had been forced to leave Rivendell for two nights and a day; rumours of black horse's roaming the countryside east of the Bruinen drawing he and a half-dozen of Elrond's finest out, to be certain of Rivendell's continued safety. Aragorn had remained at his behest – an order he hadn't taken lightly – but he hadn't expected to be accosted in such a way fair hours after his return with tidings of relief.

He mused over the sudden confrontation. At last, his eyes flicked up, eyeing his companion shrewdly from under their wrinkled hoods.

"You know the answer to that, Aragorn. They succumbed to the nine rings of men, gifted to them by the dark lord, who took their greed and bent their souls to his own purpose."

"But _how _did they do so?"

Gandalf was honestly surprised. Aragorn had never asked such questions before. Now, however, there seemed to be a strange sort of desperate earnestness in his posture. He was very tense. The wizard frowned. His lips drew smoke from the pipe, blowing it out in perfect concentric circles as he thought about the answer, not only to Aragorn's question, but to the many nuances beneath it. He wriggled his bottom a little more firmly into the soft cushion of his chair, and generously gestured for the man to take a seat before him. Aragorn sank onto the proffered stool, but did not lean back or relax as Gandalf did. He sat forward, his legs open and his elbows rested on his knees, his fingers gripping his forearms.

Of all of this, Gandalf took note.

"As you know, the nine rings of men were wrought in the land of Mordor and given to the nine Kings of Men, as they stood in the First Age."

Aragorn nodded impatiently.

"You must understand, Aragorn, is that in that time Sauron was held in as much regard as one of my own Order. He had not yet shown his true colours, nor his intentions. The rings were taken at face value – that of a gift of peace. A show of good faith, if you will. However magic, just as it is now, was a strange and fearsome force, treated with wariness at best. The Nine Kings were not as foolish as some that tell of the story would have you believe. Some, yes, wore the pretty trinkets with little thought to it, but not all. There were those that secreted them away in some trinket box or such. Kept but _not _worn…or not at first, at least."

"Something made them put them on?" Aragorn had finally sat up straight. Gandalf nodded.

"Something made them _keep _them on," he corrected mildly, "the complete corruption of one's soul and the methodical dissolution of one's humanity does not occur overnight, after all."

Strangely enough, this seemed to relax the ranger somewhat. Gandalf carefully noted this and put it to the corner of his mind for later consideration.

"Which brings us, I believe, to your question. I can tell you only what I can theorise, from what I have read or heard of in my long years. Remember that my research has been on the One, rather than the Nine."

A nod. Gandalf paused to puff thoughtful smoke rings, as if assembling his thoughts. Aragorn was utterly still, determined not to fidget like an impatient schoolboy. He had almost lost the battle, when Gandalf continued:

"It seems to me, that the Nine rings recognised, by the gifting, or else by the first human touch or some such thing, those which they were to consume. That is, only the nine Kings were affected, however that may have been. That is to say, that each ring, so I believe, knew its owner." Here he paused, as if to gauge whether his audience was following. He was; used to Gandalf's dizzying thought processes. Satisfied, the wizard nodded, puffed, and went on.

"My readings – though on a different subject – often made reference to the Nine, the Seven and Three. As I recall, there was some such reference to madness, induced in a human King, a despondency – or melancholy – in another. Such things were noted in passing – mere strange changes of behaviour – not connected with their change to Wraithdom 'til the dreadful deed was done. However…" Gandalf paused again to collect his thoughts, sifting through the dusty library of memory.

"You must understand," he began again, "that the One ring itself cannot give Power, only the illusion of Power. Such it must also be for the lesser rings." He stopped again, much to Aragorn's dismay. Fortunately, he was simply running his sentence through his head a second time, to check that it did indeed make some sort of sense, as Aragorn was beginning again to look agitated.

"The illusion of power then, is what must have made the Kings of Old wear those rings so loyally."

"But the Kings of Men _had _power," Aragorn interjected grimly. "Were they truly so insatiable in their quest for it?"

"I believe not," said the wizard. "However, you also have power Aragorn, do you not? In your sword and your bow you have power; in your blood and your name. And yet, were you to _lose _your sword, would you not strive to find it? Do you not strive to regain the kingdom that was lost?"

He raised a hand to forestall Aragorn's offense. "I mean not to upset you Aragorn, as you well know. My point, dear boy, is that power lost is infinitely more compelling than the mere promise of power."

Aragorn's face cleared, understanding dawning. And then he went suddenly, deathly pale.

"_Power lost?_" he repeated, and Gandalf was concerned to hear the hoarseness of his voice.

"I believe so," he said slowly. "It is a theory, nothing more. But perhaps the King who found himself weak – or _thought _himself to be getting weaker - might look to another means of restoring himself to his original strength. A King, after all, cannot afford weakness. Perhaps in donning the ring, he finds he feels strong again. He takes it off, and the feeling of power fades, leaving him feeling weaker than before, and so again he puts on his ring and wears it this time for longer. Perhaps this time he feels a darkness in it, because all rings are linked to the One. Perhaps Sauron begins to show his true intention. He again removes it, fearful and disgusted. But now, his feeling of weakness and vulnerability – real or imagined – has grown. He cannot bear it. And so he wears his ring, and he continues to wear it, fearing that he will fade and fall apart, unable to lead his people if he does not."

"And so the ring consumes him, and he becomes a slave to the One." Aragorn finished for him, voice quiet with dread.

"It is off course, merely a theory," the wizard sighed around his pipe, and crinkled his eyes in a friendly, reassuring fashion. "And as the Nine rings are firmly accounted for by the nine riders, I doubt we have much to fear of it happening twice that we may find our theory to be correct or not. I do not think even for a moment that Frodo will meet the same fate."

At this, Aragorn snapped up his head, a look of undisguised surprise on his face. Gandalf chuckled to himself, proud to have correctly guessed the source of this sudden interest and anxiety.

"I-," Aragorn paused, "Yes. I am sure you are right Gandalf. Thank you for your answer."

The wizard waved him off in a friendly fashion as the Ranger stood, making his excuses.

"Off you go my boy, and lay your fears to rest now. Visit your young friend, the…ninja did you say she called herself?" Aragorn nodded. "Yes, go visit her. She'll be grateful for some company I expect. Perhaps if she is willing, I might visit her myself this evening. I have been lax and it is a meeting late in coming, but you _did _promise her my aide didn't you?" He laughed as Aragorn took on a vaguely guilty expression, but quickly became more grave. "I can make no promises; time is, after all, in short supply at the present. But I shall do what I can for her. Go now, and tell her so. Take your mind off Frodo for a time; he is in safe hands now."

Aragorn again made his thanks to the wizard, before quickly scurrying away. He didn't have the heart, yet, to tell the wizard that it was not _Frodo _that had his worry.

.

.

.

**Sixth day of Hobbits' stay in Rivendell: About brunch**

Three days. _Three days_. It had been three days since she'd been tied down to the bed "to stop her aggravating her injuries and slowing her healing." Sakura would have spat in disgust if not for the fact that it'd have come straight back down on her face. Disgusting.

The first day, she'd felt weak, helpless, and angry. The second, she'd felt weak, angry, and bored. She'd been so bored she'd even tried talking to the guard, what with Glorfindel the B*****d keeping her from having visitors. She glanced warmly at the vase by her bed. Gimli had snuck in anyhow, while the guard relieved himself in her bathroom, leaving an enormous bouquet of flowers on her side-table. He'd picked them for the their appearance rather than their scent or match: they were undoubtedly the biggest and showiest of the garden – their petals long and thick, bursting with colour and vibrancy, their stems bright green and crowded with leaves, their stoma jutting proudly from within. Their scents mingled strangely in the air, sweet but not quite in harmony – and they were tied with what she recognised as one of the leather ribbons he'd had plaited into his beard, beads and all.

She was touched.

The guard had been flabbergasted when he returned to the room to find them sitting there in all their obnoxiously defiant glory.

The worst thing to Sakura's mind was that she couldn't just heal herself. She rated everything Glorfindel did by how much faster, or more efficiently, she could have done it herself. He told her that it would have been faster if she'd rested as she'd been told. She refuted this loudly and derisively, but was hard pressed not to begrudgingly admit, if only in her own mind, that despite three days of enforced bed-rest her ribs were feeling better. So was her elbow in fact – Glorfindel had even taken off the brace and sling.

'_**Well it's faster than healing the natural way, I'll admit' **_her thoughts put in peevishly, _**'but elfish hoodoo has nothing on chakra.'**_

She shifted uncomfortably, trying to ease the cramp in her neck. Her restraints pushed against her chest and upper arms, and she sighed, wondering despondently whether Glorfindel might take them off now that she was finally showing some improvement. Not that she'd ever admit to his, just possibly, being right…

CLATTER!

BANG!

THUMP THUMP THUMP!

A sudden noise from the hallway had her guard hurtling to his feet, wrenching open the door even as someone thumped loudly on the other side of it. He swung it open just before the third landed, paling and standing frozen, eyes wide, as the fist jerked to a stop mid-air, a scant half inch from his nose.

"Ah," said the fist, "My apologies."

It was a deep, cultured voice that could only belong to an elf, but it wasn't one that Sakura remembered hearing before. The young guard however, immediately began to exude such an overwhelming sense of dedication to duty and devotion that Sakura swore it made the air heavier. As it was, she could just about see, from the corner of her eye, his shoulders as they tried valiantly to reach the ceiling. He was making quite the effort to stand up straighter. Sakura strained against her ropes, trying to get a look at the intruder than seemed so important, but couldn't twist around far enough. An unhappy grunt left her lips.

In short order, however, she found that there was no need, because two small and rather excitable figures bounded over to the bed and leaned over her; their silhouettes blocking the sunlight from the window as cheery smiles and curly hair filling her vision.

"Hi, Miss Stranger," Pippin grinned; saluting.

"Good afternoon my lady," said Merry with a courtly bow. But he quite ruined the grand gesture by cheekily blowing her a kiss afterward.

Sakura was distracted from her reply as the intruder and another elf swept into the room.

"_More _bloody elves?" she muttered under her breath, eying them both with distinct mistrust as they moved to the end of her bed and finally brought themselves into view.

They must have heard her, because their smirks instantly widened, and both bowed mockingly from where they stood; their long unbound hair sweeping over their shoulders, the colour of richest dark chocolate. She glared, trying not to think of how ridiculous she must look from that angle.

Merry too, laughed at her low comment, and perched himself on her right; the mattress dipping with his modest weight.

"Since we young hoodlums aided you in your night-time 'shenanigan', we've been assigned guards of our own," he stage-whispered, conspiratorially.

He made a jest of it, smiling as he said it, but Sakura winced at the stab of guilt that hit her. She hadn't meant to get Merry and Pippin in trouble with her idiocy as well. Merry saw the change in her face and shook his head, straightening and gesturing to the two elves behind him. "Never fear, Miss Stranger, our guards are not at all like yours, most notably because we haven't been able to give them the slip even once." Farahad glowered from the corner. Merry winked at her, and she couldn't quite help the smug little smile that tugged at her mouth.

"They are, in fact, rather companionable," he added, "they may even be elves that you _like_."

The look on her face said quite clearly that she doubted it. Sakura craned her neck to look at the two at the end of the bed. They appeared to be quite happy to let Merry wax lyrical about them, and stood with nothing more than folded arms and matching smirks, in silence. In other words, they looked like they were up to something. She cocked an eyebrow rudely.

"High expectations," she drawled.

Much to her disgust, they actually looked amused. One even let out a little laugh of delight, before he smothered it with a sleeve and watched her over the fabric with twinkling grey eyes. High-quality clothes, her ninja's mind noted; Hand-stitched by the look of it and heavily embroidered; lots of workmanship: Probably rich or important or both. They made no move to respond however, and her brow furrowed, equal parts in frustration and confusion. But Merry clearly hadn't finished. He stood, gesturing grandly.

"My esteemed Lady, allow me to formally introduce to you, their Lordships Elrohir and Elladan; sons of Elrond Half-Elven, and elder brothers to the lovely Lady Arwen Eveningstar. Esteemed Lords; Miss Stranger: valiant human warrior, hobbit-saviour, doer-of-amazing-deeds, and occasionally Ranger." He finished with a jaunty little bow to Sakura.

It was only now that the 'official' introduction had been made that the brothers stepped forward: one to either side of her bed. But they did not speak to her. Rather, they stopped a scant foot from her and addressed each other instead, over the top of her prone form. Their expressions were exaggerated and showed great shock and disappointment.

"Well now, dear brother, we cannot greet the young lady like this."

"Indeed not brother, it is most improper and not at all suited to her station."

So saying, they nodded sharply, and with a swift movement that set off every ninja-instinct Sakura had, the twin brothers drew daggers from their belts and sliced through the air. Unable to react any other way, Sakura turned her head and clenched her eyes shut and her jaw close. Her fingers fisted in the fabric of her sheets and her teeth ached they were so tight together. Her whole body tensed…only for her eyes to snap open at the sound of tearing fabric. She blinked. Experimentally, she moved. The restraints slid off of her torso like water off a ducks back, allowing her to sit up properly for the first time in days.

Pippin reached behind her and began fluffing her pillow.

Sakura stared slack-jawed. She was too gobsmacked to even sit up properly, the move was so unexpected. She lay half on her side, propped up by her healing elbow, and expression of utter surprise on her face. Undeterred, Elladan scooped up her hand from the mattress, turned it palm-down, and kissed the back of it. She couldn't feel it, but she was aware of Elrohir pressing his lips to her bandaged knuckles on the other side of the bed, at the same time. She growled as the motion took away her support but refused to let them see her fall back onto the pillows. Her abdominals were really starting to hurt with the effort of keeping her up though…

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, madam."

Her eyes widened. Good grief, they even spoke in unison. It was even worse than seeing Lee and Gai together.

"Um…" said Sakura.

She _wanted _to say a whole plethora of things, ranging from her elf-bias and pro-dwarfism to questioning just what kind of men had hair that shiny. However, Merry himself had just identified them as the sons of their elusive host, and they _had _just cut her loose, at least by half, which was infinitely more comfortable. And unfortunately that meant that diplomacy was the better form of valour, and that she was going to have to suck it up.

She forced a smile and jerked her hands roughly out of their respective grips.

"Do the other ones, and then we'll talk."

Then again, she was never very good at diplomacy.

.

.

.

**Sixth day of Hobbits' stay in Rivendell: Approaching lunchtime… **

Gimli would be disgusted, Sakura thought idly as she reclined against her luxuriously fluffed pillows-a-la-Pippin, to see her actually getting along with an elf. Let alone two of them. Elrond's sons were, just as Merry had told her, surprisingly likeable. They knew their manners, certainly, but they performed them with a kind of cheeky eloquence that made them seem both noble and approachable at on and the same time. They had an appreciation for mischief not unlike Merry and Pippin's, and never was it more expressed than in their smirking congratulations for the trouble she'd put her poor minders through. They laughed outright to hear Arwen's part in it, while the guard, Farahad, sulked in a corner of the room, displeased with their amusement at his expense but unable to contest his master's sons.

"Ah, our dear baby sister," said one merrily. She was not entirely sure which one, as Elladan and Elrohir were more or less identical. The other picked up his speech before he finished, finishing the sentence for him: "She never did like to see anything in a cage." Sakura cocked an eyebrow, expressing herself unimpressed at the comparison to some sort of zoo animal.

"Dear Arwen is a deplorably free spirit," the first twin went on, ignoring her expression. "Poor father can never keep track of her, and our dear Estel has even less luck of late. No doubt she felt you'd appreciate the sunshine more than the concern." His eyes twinkled with some unspoken delight, but whether in his sister's wilfulness or the trouble which Sakura herself had caused, she couldn't tell. Seeing that the elf expected some sort of response from her however, Sakura snorted and folded her arms, folding her legs and enjoying the unrestricted movement.

"I was certainly enjoying my time with Gimli until your damned healer came and kidnapped me," she replied drolly. Surprisingly this verbal banter was actually somewhat amusing. Talking to these elves was not as trying an endeavour as she'd expected.

Elladan looked horrified.

"The _dwarf?_ Oh you can find better company than that dear Lady."

"Funnily enough, he'd say the same of _your _company."

Merry and Pippin sniggered around the mouthfuls of food they were ingesting. Keeping company with the masters of the house certainly came with its perks. There were more snacks and servants through the room in the last hour than there'd been during her entire stay. Her stomach rumbled appreciatively as she nibbled a thick slice of fruit. She didn't recognise the name or taste, but it was gloriously sweet and juicy. Pippin swallowed hurriedly and perked up in a move Sakura was starting to recognise as: 'Pippin just thought of a question and his eagerness will overwhelm you both if you don't answer fast.'

She tilted her head at him.

"What are dwarves like, Miss Stranger, if you've met one? Are they at all like hobbits?"

"Not at all," Elrohir interjected. "They are dirty, smelly, crude creatures with no manners."

"And no taste," added his brother. Both nodded pompously. Sakura smiled sweetly, and threw a pillow at the nearest. Elrohir squeaked as the soft projectile hit him firmly in the ear, much to the surprise and laughter of his twin. Sakura triumphantly lifted her chin, looking down her nose with an expression that just dared him to say anything more. He rubbed his sensitive lobes ruefully, but wisely stayed quiet.

"They are not at like that, Pippin, and you'd be wise not to base your opinions of a dwarf on what an elf tells you. They are not friends it seems," she remarked with rolled eyes. "The dwarf I met was very gentlemanly, though not much like a hobbit. He was a bit taller than you, and not a lot shorter than me."

"You are quite short," interrupted Elladan innocently. She scowled and waved her remaining pillow threateningly.

"I found his company very pleasant," she told the hobbit, who nodded. "He was quite impressed by our little trick." She shared a conspiratorial grin with Pippin, who puffed out his chest proudly.

"As only a dwarf would. It is not to be congratulated," the guard put in reproachfully, unable to keep silent at their blatant pride. "To show such disregard for Master Glorfindel's efforts, and such disrespect for the esteemed guards of Lord Elrond, ought not to be a point of _pride_." His look seemed to express the unmentioned but obvious 'for shame', and he turned almost expectantly to Elladan and Elrohir to back him up on the point.

Elladan snorted. "The 'esteemed guards' are a joke, and too over-confident by far, if they fall for such paltry tricks. One who is so easily fooled deserves to be."

The guard looked aghast, but was silenced by the compelling look sent him by the twin. Elrohir continued for his brother:

"Quite. And as to the matter of the young lady's injuries, while we would all undoubtedly like to see her recover, they are nonetheless _her_ injuries and she may do as she likes with them," he nodded his respect to the medi-nin, who smiled appreciatively, if a little doubtful about his logic. "Who are we to cage a free spirit?"

This time Merry and Pippin joined in with vigorous nodding, and scowled at the guard.

"And it was a very _clever _trick," Pippin added loyally with a frown loaded with meaning at Elladan, who conceded the point with a graceful dip of his head. Sakura rolled her eyes none too discreetly, catching the unhappy scowl on the guards face as she did so. She raised an eyebrow in his direction, drawing the attention of the Elrohir, who was nearest. He also turned looked at him. She had to give Farahad points for acting at least – his face was wiped smooth and blank in seconds. He looked back at the young lord with polite query.

"Speaking of your injuries, though, dear Lady," Elladan spoke again, unaware or choosing to ignore the little exchange. Sakura and Elrohir gave him their attention. "There seems to be very little known, even among those usually in the know-"; here, Sakura detected the underlying meaning, and guessed that Elladan and Elrohir were usually among 'those'; "-the extent nor in fact, the true cause of your injuries, dear lady. Our sister could tell us very little, only that you were caught in the flood with one of the Nine…?"

Sakura's good mood started to dissipate, as the non-too-subtle probing revealed the true reason for Elladan and Elrohir's visit. But she was spared answering – an answer that would no doubt have lacked diplomacy entirely – by the surprisingly aggressive defence of her accomplices.

"She doesn't want to talk about it," Merry growled, rising from the bed.

"If all you came for is a story, then forget about it," Pippin objected, standing protectively between the bed and the elf who'd spoken.

The elves in question were completely taken aback – where had their cheery little companions gone? The cross, defensive hobbits that stood before them no were almost inconceivably different, and they immediately realised their mistake, and regretted their nosiness.

"Forgive me, I meant no offense," Elladan tried to sooth, raising his hands placatingly.

"It is only concern for the lady that draws our questions," Elrohir added, "Forgive our intrusion lady; we will not speak of it again."

Sakura snorted disbelievingly.

"You just wanted to know if it was true that I fought a Ringwraith, or not," she accused. Farahad gasped openly – he'd not been privy to that information. Nor it seemed had Elladan and Elrohir, as they became unmistakeably tense. Sakura tossed her hair out of her face, revealing the full force of her contempt. With her right arm she gestured to herself.

"I did, and you see what it did to me. Would _you _want to talk about it?"

Secretly she revelled in the expressions of shock, horror and intense guilt that settled on the elves faces. Outwardly, however, she turned her face away, playing up the badly-done-to female card for all it was worth. Normally she'd resolve her issues much more forcefully, but she wasn't a kunoichi for nothing and this method appeased her vindictive streak just as well. They'd no right to demand answers of her and if hitting them in the guilt worked then she'd damn well use it to her advantage.

What followed were earnest apologies and entreaties for forgiveness, and it was with some surprise that she realised the looks on the twins faces were of genuine regret and distress. She drummed her fingers on the bed, eyes fixed on the wall, considering. Merry still looked cross and stern, but Pippin gently touched her shoulder.

"I think they mean it, Miss Stranger," he said softly. She looked at him. Pippin was a forgiving soul, and something in his open gaze reminded her just enough of Naruto to break her heart, just a little bit. She missed him terribly.

"Fine," she muttered. She shifted uncomfortably and huffed. She didn't want to talk about what had happened to her; the loss of her chakra was a blow still too raw to discuss, but, that didn't mean it wasn't preying on her mind. And with nobody else to ask…Sakura sighed. Well, while the subject was at hand…

"Has a Ringwraith ever been killed?" she asked in a deplorably small voice. She groaned inwardly – that hadn't been nearly as offhand as she'd have liked.

Elladan and Elrohir did a fine job of hiding their thoughts this time – their faces went poker-blank. The young elf, however, looked at her like he couldn't decide if she was being deliberately obtuse, or if she really was so thick as to ask such a monumentally stupid question. Being young, he was still impulsive by elf standards and this was no exception. Once more he found himself unable to keep silent, especially since his lords appeared to give no intention to answer. His voice, when he deigned to use it, was snobbish and condescending, and appeared to travel the full length of his nose before reaching her.

"Of course not. The Nine are immortal, soulless creatures. One cannot kill the un-dead."

"No?"

"No. It is impossible. Such a thing has never been done."

The twins glared at the impudent and wholly untactful guard. The poor girl was obviously distressed and looking for some reassurance or chance of retribution after her terrifying encounter, and here he was trampling over her feelings like a rampaging oliphaunt!

Sakura nodded, troubled. Not because she thought that hadn't killed it, because she was entirely certain that she had, but because nobody had ever succeeded in doing it before her. And that meant that she had no way of knowing what was going to happen next. It also meant that the likelihood of anyone actually believing her was probably slim, even if she did finally overcome her pride and distrust long enough to tell Glorfindel the true extent and cause of her injuries, which, in all likelihood, were a direct result of killing a Ringwraith, and which he probably wouldn't know what to do with anyway, because it had never happened before.

At this point Sakura stopped thinking, because she was fairly sure the circular thought process was making her seasick. Curiosity however, could not be contained, and not noticing the expressions of his lords, Farahad finally lost the battle with his will and asked:

"Why would you ask such a foo-… such a question?"

"Morbid curiosity. Why do you look in the mirror every morning?"

She treated him to her best Naruto-prankster-smirk, even as his lips clamped suddenly shut, as if it had finally occurred to him that picking a fight with his charge would not do him any favours in the eyes of the Dúnedan, or his masters, whom he'd finally noticed were looking at him most displeased. It didn't stop his fierce scowl however. She nodded at him, as if pretending to be pleased with his performance, and stirred the shit a little more.

"That's it. You're getting better. Now all you have to work on is not staring, drooling, and stammering whenever the Lady Arwen stops by to say hello."

He paled. Elladan and Elrohir turned their entire bodies toward him, towering over the guard like impending doom personified.

"_Do you often have trouble with that?" _The latter asked, in a voice as pleasant as a snowstorm in summer.

Elladan was decidedly less patient than his brother however.

"_Out."_

"_M-my Lord?"_

"_You have spoken out of turn and insulted our guest, and that is more than enough reason to have you leave this room, the insinuation regarding our beloved sister notwithstanding,"_ he folded his arms and glared. _"Outside. Now."_

She may not have understood a word of elvish, but the looming and the posturing were hallmark 'protective-brother' behaviour. She exchanged a smug little wink with the hobbits while the elves' backs were turned and their attention was on the guard, who slunk out not long after with the metaphorical tail between his legs. It seemed her little "slip" about their baby sister had served its purpose. She was getting sick and tired of him, and now that Elladan and Elrohir and cut her loose she had every intention of giving him the slip once more and going in search of Gimli.

Her smug countenance fell from her face as the door opened again, not minutes later. Elladan and Elrohir had barely gotten back into their seats.

But the body that came around the doorframe was neither blonde, nor particularly young, and nor was it an elf at all.

.

.

.

**Sixth day of Hobbits' stay in Rivendell: Shortly after Mid-day…**

It was with considerable consternation that Aragorn approached Sakura's bed chambers. This was not a conversation which he could approach lightly or discreetly – it had to be confronted. But how to begin was a question he troubled over to no avail, until he found himself at her door no closer to knowing what he was going to say than when he first left Gandalf. Needless to say his mood was not lightened by the sight of Sakura's guard _outside_ her room, instead of inside where he was supposed to be. He paced the floor, looking decidedly unhappy and muttering to himself in a low voice, stopping occasionally and leaning against the door frame, only to fidget too much to stay still and propel himself to his feet once more.

Aragorn's step on the floorboard had the elf's head jerk up. He came forwards, clearly expecting a harsh reprimand but determined to circumvent it if he could.

"Forgive me my lord," he spoke before Aragorn could scold him again, "but the Lord Elladan and Lord Elrohir are within and bade me sit outside for the duration of their visit. It was an order, sir," he added by way of explanation. He left out the exact time-frame in which they'd made the order, and carefully skirted around their reason for doing so.

Aragorn's brow furrowed. Elladan and Elrohir? What purpose did they have to visit Sakura?

"Uh…they cut her bonds, sir," the elf added, not above diverting the Ranger's attention when it came to planting blame. He wasn't going to be held responsible if she escaped a second time.

His frown deepened, but he nodded his understanding to the guard, brushing past him and opening the door without preamble. Uncertain as to what he should do, Farahad hovered in the doorway. The Dúnedan looked troubled.

"Strider!" chorused Merry and Pippin, looking up with cheery greetings.

'Of course', Aragorn thought privately, even as he returned the hobbits' hellos, 'the hobbits are under their care. No doubt the visit was Merry and Pippin's idea.' Relief flooded him. If the reason for the twins' presence was innocent, he still had time to discuss with Sakura his theories, however far-fetched they may seem to some, in private before he'd have to make the decision as to whether to inform Lord Elrond. He was mixed parts glad and weary that the decision had not yet been taken off his shoulders to make.

His respite however, was short lived.

"Estel!"

For the second time in as many minutes, the twins leapt up and he groaned slightly as they bodily accosted him, throwing their arms over his shoulders.

"You've been neglecting us little brother," chimed Elladan in his right ear, bumping his shoulder in a teasing manner, if a little roughly.

"He certainly hasn't been neglecting our dear sister," observed Elrohir, his arm crooked at the elbow so that he could look his 'younger brother' in the eye. Aragorn flushed uncomfortably.

He knew that they were only teasing. On any other day, at any other time, he'd gladly have sat with them, joined in their banter and laughed with them happily. For the longest time, these had indeed been the only family he'd known and he loved them as if they were his own blood. But today, he could not afford to sit or to laugh. Dark fears preyed on his mind, and he needed to speak to Sakura. He shrugged the twins off as inoffensively as he could, explaining himself to them in low elvish, as best he could without giving away what he knew or suspected. It was not that he did not wish to spend time with his honorary brothers, he tried to tell them, but there was a greater need pressing on his mind. He was unyielding in his need to speak with Sakura alone.

Sakura watched suspiciously, cataloguing their interaction. Elladan and Elrohir looked unhappy – they seemed to be questioning him – and Aragorn's voice took on a firmer tone. The twins frowned, apparently dissatisfied with his answer, but before they could say anything more Aragorn seemed to lose his patience. He finally snapped out something in elvish that had the two looking distinctly offended.

"Master Meriadoc, Master Peregrin; it seems we are in the way. It is time to depart," Elrohir said frostily.

The hobbits looked lost and confused. "But we just got here!" Pippin objected.

"Now," said Elladan, and began shepherding them toward the door.

Farahad peered around the frame, curious and awkward, only to be pushed out of the way by the exiting elves and the loudly complaining hobbits.

"And _why _exactly do they have to leave?" Sakura growled out, displeased with this turn of events.

Dammit she was finally getting her mind off things and actually starting to enjoy a bit of company and Aragorn was barging in and taking over and ruining it. Not to mention, she could hardly do another runner with the Ranger hanging about. Why couldn't he just leave well enough alone and adopt a bit of the twins' attitude? Their bargain was over, she'd filled her half, and they now had no more business to conclude. And that meant, once and for all, that she had absolutely no obligation to as he said anymore.

She was about to tell him as much, too, but one looked at the gaunt, haunted look in his eyes stopped her. It occurred to Sakura all of a sudden, that underneath the underneath something was very wrong…and just this once she might benefit from sitting still obediently and listening. For a moment she felt a wild impulsion to run from Aragorn and whatever ill news he brought with him – she could almost feel the wind on her face as she leapt from the window and took to the trees… -but she shook it off violently. Quite apart from the churning of her conscience she didn't have the power to do it anymore. That sort of manoeuvre required chakra, after all. She swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat, and squashed back the sudden wetness of her eyes.

Dammit she would _not _become an emotional train-wreck at the drop of a hat! That didn't help anyone.

He did not answer her question. He did not even turn to properly face her until he was certain that all had left the room. Then:

"Tell me the truth Sakura."

It was not a request. It was not even an order: it was a demand. It was also deplorably vague, and though Sakura could make a pretty well-educated guess she was not about to let him off that easy.

"And what truth would that be? If you are going to demand answers of me at least have the decency to afford me clarity," she crossed her arms and turned her nose up at him. Admittedly, pulling a sulky-teenage-smartass manoeuvre like that was unlikely to alter his treatment of her as a child, but Sakura was getting very, very tired of Aragorn's bossiness. He frustratedly ran a hand through his hair, hissing when his fingers caught and yanked a clump out.

She stared him down unsympathetically, debating whether or not to forego her earlier decision and give him, essentially, the 'you're not boss of me' line anyway. He hadn't even started with a "Hello Sakura" let alone actual courtesy.

If she'd been in a more forgiving state of mind, Sakura might have noticed that this was in and of itself a strange and rare occurrence for the usually mild mannered and well-spoken Ranger – an indication of his agitation. At present however, she was hard pressed not to petulantly stick her tongue out at him and simply refuse to tell him anything. But she couldn't deny that the haggard look to his face wasn't bothersome…one might even say worrying.

He took to pacing the room and abruptly changed tack; a tactic he'd used before when she was being difficult.

"Shall I guess then?" he asked in her general direction, but steam-rollered on over any reply she might have made. "You may correct me when I am incorrect."

Sakura's eyes narrowed, remembering the sharp-eyed way he'd examined the river-bank, and suddenly wished she'd made an excuse to use the bathroom earlier while the getting was still good and retrieved the ring…or at least moved it somewhere else. He took her silence for acquiescence – or the closest thing to it he was likely to get.

"You successfully reached the shores of the Bruinen and got Frodo safely to the other side. Arwen flooded the canyon and you insured that _all _the wraiths fell prey to it, even to the point of dragging one into the water yourself."

Momentary pause.

Raised Eyebrow; terse nod. Nothing he couldn't have found out from a quick chat with Arwen.

He continued. "At some point you were able to emerge from the River, however at that point or at another location along the riverbank you entered a physical fight with one of the Nazgul, not unlike that we participated in atop Weathertop." This time he didn't pause longer than a breath; his eyes gauged her reaction. "It came to blows. You were able to fend it off, but were eventually forced to draw a weapon. You came into close enough proximity that it was able to stab you," he briefly indicated her right elbow. "In return, you cut off one of its fingers."

This time, Sakura's hesitance was marked. But even a civilian could see that Aragorn would not believe a shaken head now. This part he knew for a fact – everything in his tone and posture said so. Her mouth tightened. That must have been what he'd seen, when his attention had been miraculously caught before he'd seen the wraith's ring in her hand. She nodded, tortoise-slow. He faced her, expression grave but face open.

"This is where I need you to fill in the blanks Sakura," he told her solemnly.

But Sakura hesitated and was silent. How could she tell him that the power and strength he'd admired in her were gone? She could barely acknowledge it to herself. Already, he treated her differently, like she was fragile, what would it be if he knew the full extent of it? She looked into his eyes – the eyes of a good man – and unperceptively flinched.

How could she admit to taking –_hiding_- something like the wraith ring from him? To having gone out of her way to do so? She might not know a lot about Middle Earth, but everything she'd been told pointed to anything like that being bad news.

And if she did tell him…would he believe her? What would it mean for her?

Aragorn let out a noise of frustration, once more pacing and pulling at the ends of his hair. Finally he lost his last shred of patience, and with it, any compulsion to spare her feelings.

"You've lost your power," he stated bluntly. The whiplash flinch and the expression of outright agony crossed her features before she could get a hold on herself. Her eyes were wide and fearful when she looked at him. He waved his hands agitatedly, as if gesturing to an invisible audience. "Not weeks ago, I saw you lift a man bodily off his feet, and not a small man either, and yet you allow three elves to wrestle you to the bed? I have seen you break the ground with your bare fists and you do not use the same method to free yourself, even when you make no secret of your opposition to being bound? _Why?_" He stared her down, his eyes alight with confirmed belief. She set her shoulders and raised her chin, defiant to the end. He answered his own question in any case.

"Not because you will not," he said quietly, "but because you _cannot_."

The silence hung in the room and grew thick, fed by tension, stress, and grim conviction. The silence took on a weight of its own, filling each corner and pressing down on the occupants of the room, 'til Sakura's very throat seemed to grow heavy and constricted, choking down her words. This was the sort of silence that could not be cut with a knife: it needed a guillotine.

Her fists clenched and unclenched rhythmically. Aragorn took note that her bandages stayed fresh and unmarked by the motion, and put it to the back of his mind to discuss later. He dared not press her more, but this was a conversation too long avoided. If she did not say something soon…

"No," she said at last in a voice so small she may almost have not said it at all. "I cannot." Her shoulders started to shake, and without thinking he took two strides across the room, and would have embraced her in comfort if her head had not snapped up with a furious glare. She reminded him in that moment of a cornered animal, fierce with fear, and he stopped dead. Her head rose higher. "I cannot," she said again in a stronger voice, thick with bitterness. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

But she found she couldn't face the all-consuming pity in his eyes and turned to the wall, her expression growing cold as she hid once more behind the mask of a ninja.

"What did it do to you Sakura?"

Unthinkingly her hand found her bandaged arm and gripped it tight.

"Wrong question," she managed, hoarsely. The dread grew.

"What…did you do to _it_, Sakura?"

He wasn't expecting the despairing, defeated gaze when it once more swung to him. She looked as if she already expected the worst sort of reaction from him.

"I destroyed it."

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**Sixth day of Hobbits' stay in Rivendell: Late**

"_Destroyed _it!"

Glorfindel gaped unattractively. He'd have ridiculed the notion if not for the decidedly serious expressions on their faces. Sakura nodded.

"Do you remember…" she started hesitantly, "I told you about chakra?"

"You told me it was gone," Glorfindel stated, looking confused, "though what it has to do with-"

"-It has everything to do with it." She interrupted, but the malice behind her words was gone. "Chakra is…an energy. A _life _energy, that people like me harness and use. It's how I fight, how I heal…If everything else of me was stripped away, that's what would be left. I thought maybe a Ringwraith might be something similar," here she laughed bitterly, "it's not like I had anything to lose at the time – or so I thought. There is a technique we use in healing to perform complex surgeries" – Aragorn looked a little ill, but Glorfindel looked exceedingly interested. Sakura looked at the floor- "it creates a scalpel – very thin knife – out of chakra. It's sharper and thinner than anything even an elf could make with their bare hands. That's what I used to cut off the wraith's fingers – I thought maybe if I separated it from its ring maybe it would be more susceptible to attack. It worked, and I used the remainder of my chakra to charge my fist, enhancing my physical strength. I was going to hit it, with the aim to incapacitate, but the armour of its breastplate was dented and weak, and my hand went right through."

Two sets of eyes zeroed in on her bandaged left arm. She rubbed it self-consciously.

"My chakra discharged erratically. It more or less ripped the thing apart from the inside."

"What happened to the ring?"

Sakura's eye snapped to Aragorn. Was it her or was there something…accusatory in the question?

'_**I found it,' **_her brain confessed.

"I have no idea," her mouth replied of its own accord, smooth and unwavering in its lie.

'_**It's under the bathroom floor!' **_ Brain cried.

"I don't have it." Her traitorous body backed up her treacherous mouth with an innocent shrug.

Aragorn's eyes narrowed briefly, examining her own, before he let it go with a trusting nod and a gentle, reassuring squeeze of her shoulder. She felt like someone had just crushed all of the air out of her lungs. He was just going to take her at her word?

"Your chakra; what of it now?" Glorfindel asked; brows knit in consternation as he unknowingly broke into her mental dialogue. He was just going to let that go?

"Present but unusable," she summarised shortly.

Glorfindel met the eyes of Aragorn. This was…heavy news. On the one hand, Sakura was a hero of the highest kind. She had done what no other before her had done. But what that meant for her…

"Your arm," Glorfindel began, "is the one that was inside the Ringwraith when it…died?" It wasn't the right word, but his mind was such a muddle that he could think of no other. A nod was his only answer. His fingers began drumming on his forearms as he considered this.

"Then we have three variables: your arm, your 'chakra' energy, and whatever dark force makes up the wraith under the armour." He began to move: three strides toward the window, three back. "Logically, we must conclude that the damage to the first variable resulted from the second or third."

Sakura wrinkled her nose at her arm being called a 'variable' like she was nothing more than a science experiment, but she sighed and applied her brain to the equation. She didn't have that wide forehead for nothing – there was a damn big brain behind it and it was high time she used it.

"Chakra backlash is a possibility – it's rare, but it's been known to cause damage to chakra pathways in severe cases," she rubbed her arm despondently, "but it has never been documented as producing an effect like this." She raised her left arm half off the bed to illustrate the point.

Aragorn seemed to be looking at it from a different angle.

"How does chakra," he hesitated a little over the strange word, "discharge?"

Sakura spread the fingers of her right hand and held it aloft to show him. "Through the pores of the skin; infinitesimally small vents that cannot be easily seen with the naked eye, unless you know what to look for…"

"And, once discharged, can you…bring it back?" He ruefully put a hand to his head, searching for the right phrase, "…re-absorb it?"

"It requires training, but yes in theory, as long as you don't let go of it in the first place. It's a technique involved in many medical procedures; trainable but difficult to learn."

Glorfindel stopped pacing, drawing level with Aragorn. Sakura looked uneasy.

"You don't think…?"

Aragorn sighed. At this point Sakura, I'm not sure any of us know what to think."

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**Seventh day of Hobbits' stay in Rivendell: Early morning**

It had not been easy to refrain, the night before as they sat theorising late into the night, but Glorfindel had insisted that his method be followed. Her arm had shown progress, left undisturbed to heal, and undisturbed it would stay for another day yet.

But even he could not quite restrain himself, and after a night of no sleep, much pondering and endless tossing and turning, he rose with a new determination. This was not something that they could sit on.

So it was that the sun had barely graced the sky – twelve hours had scarce passed – that Glorfindel approached Sakura's room with the unmistakeable tools: a pair of scissors and a bucket. Aragorn would not be present – she knew he'd left the vale to search for the missing ring, though without much hope of success.

The pair held their collective breath as the bandages were unwound. He began at the shoulder, gently pulling the pins from the fabric and dropping them carelessly into the basin on the stand. His nimble fingers plucked the tucked end from its place beneath the fold and tugged carefully. The fabric peeled slowly away from the lower lengths of linen, the fibres clinging to one another from being so long in the same place. The end was frayed, and the healer made a noise of irritation in the back of his throat as his fingers slipped, the ends unravelling in a spiderweb of strings before he could correct his grip.

It was possibly the tensest unwrapping in the history of healing.

Both were quiet; Glorfindel in his concentration and Sakura in her apprehension. The bandages were unwound loop by loop, Glorfindel making smart work of undoing them to her wrist. He hooked a finger under the second layer of binding, loosening the bandage like one might loosen the laces on a sports shoe. That done he peeled the remainder off of her arm like a sleeve, from shoulder to fingertips, and let it drop onto the floor.

Sakura's breath stopped. Glorfindel was hard pressed to stifle his gasp. Both looked in astonished horror.

Slowly, her fingers shaking, Sakura lifted her left hand to eye level. She swallowed, feeling bile rise in her throat and nausea threaten to overcome her. Morbid fascination had her experimentally wiggle her fingers – they wiggled – but the feeling she got from them was less sensory than it was…awareness. The true sense of touch was muted and almost completely stifled. Glorfindel shuddered slightly as the movement redirected the light, and it seemed to shine right through her flesh.

Sakura's skin had become so pale and deathly white as to be nearly translucent. The growing light from the window, such as it was, shone through, showing without mistake the silhouette of her bones, the pale light shining through the spaces of her joints. The bones were obscured only by the bright blue and deep red of her veins and arteries, clearly visible in their path down her arms and the faint weave of their interlocking webs where they became venules and capillary beds within her washed-out, ghostly flesh and muscle. She watched, with sick captivation, the rhythmic pulsing of her arteries that marked her own heartbeat.

Here and there a blue glow seemed to flicker in her skin, and it was with despair that Sakura recognised the fragmented and broken litter of what were once her chakra pathways, still sparking with the energy that simmer and flashed under her skin, but utterly disconnected and useless. She doubted Glorfindel would see it, chakra was something one had to train oneself to see, and short of a Hyuuga it took years for most Medi-nin to master.

The word that came to her mind was completely irrational; not even a medical term, the word was wholly inadequate description for what she saw. But she could think of nothing else in the current moment that might describe it more accurately.

'_**I…have a zombie arm,' **_went the numb thought in her head.

Glorfindel's face was grim as their eyes met. Wordlessly he reached out to take her fingers and flex them. The skin was smooth and bent like rubber over her knuckles, and he shivered slightly at the unnatural coolness of her hand, a few degrees below that of the rest of her body. Sakura too, ran her free fingers along the back of her hand, startled and confused to realise that the fine pink hair that normally covered her skin was absent entirely – there was not a follicle of body hair in that flesh. The condition ran from her hand to half-way up her upper arm. There, the whiteness began to darken to a pale pink and eventually to the normal tone of her skin, but the flesh was lacking moisture there and felt dry and rough to the touch.

Glorfindel turned her arm this way and that, examining the condition with a troubled frown. She watched him dully, and when their eyes met again he didn't need to tell her that he didn't know what this condition was.

"Sakura," he said softly, the gentlest tone she'd ever heard from him. "You must tell Gandalf."

Her lips tightened and she pulled her arm away. He didn't resist, merely letting her wrist and fingers slide out of his grasp. She cradled her arm to her chest like an injured animal. And then, abruptly, she brought it fist down onto the side table with a resounding slam. The pitcher and basin rattled with the force of it.

"I can still use it," she said; grimly determined. "I may not be able to feel much, but I can move it. I can use it, and I think we both know that from now on this is the best it's likely to be, no?"

Glorfindel suppressed a sigh.

"Wrap it up again," she ordered quietly. "Nobody needs to see that."

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**What's this? Explanation…? Answers…? Chapters of remarkable length…?**

**Surely not.**

**All new, never before seen content. **

**Just shy of 10,000 words in a single chapter. Don't get used to it.**

**Also, kudos and free cookies to the couple of scarily psychic reviewers that guessed very, very close, if not perfectly. Either I need to be less obvious or you guys are just scarily accurate O.o**

**~Devi1OnUrShou1der~**


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